


Resurrection

by Hermaline75



Category: Thor (Movies)
Genre: 19th Century, Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Alternate Universe - Historical, Anal Sex, Class Differences, Eventual Smut, M/M, Masturbation, Oral Sex, Period-Typical Homophobia, Period-Typical Racism, Pseudo-Science, actual science, references to canonical deaths
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-01
Updated: 2016-02-20
Packaged: 2018-05-04 16:01:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 51
Words: 41,849
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5340014
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hermaline75/pseuds/Hermaline75
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Edinburgh, 1826.</p><p>In the depths of alcoholism, Thor finds himself employed by an unusual man.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Happy new year!  
> This idea has been rattling around my brain for a while. This probably says something odd about me.
> 
> I'm trying something a little different to my usual style in that we'll swap perspectives every chapter. Odd chapters are from Thor's point of view and evens are spent with Loki.
> 
> Comments, questions and wails about cliffhangers are always welcome! Hope you enjoy.

Volstagg tried to take his glass away and Thor growled, not even looking up beyond his friend's long red beard.

Friend? Was that the right word? He didn't really have friends in the proper sense. Not anymore. Perhaps 'associate' might be the right term. Certainly, Volstagg knew Thor better than anyone else in this godforsaken city, but that was only because he owned a reasonably priced bar in the right neighbourhood. Thor had been here a lot of late and this week in particular. Well, this week he had more reason to drink than usual.

"I think you've had enough, Thor."

"Do I seem drunk to you?"

"Not by your standards, but..."

"Then I haven't had enough."

Volstagg sighed heavily and didn't so much as flinch when Thor slammed his hand on the bar top.

"Another!"

"You may not be drunk, but I've been counting. With your pay from the past few days, you've had a hot pie from Hilde and drunk all but fourpence away, if I'm correct. You'll need that to pay for your lodgings till the end of the week."

"I'll sleep on the street."

"Even you would freeze out there in this weather. Or drown. I don't want to be scraping your carcass off the pavement come morning."

"Give me credit, then. I'll have more money before too long, you know I will."

"And have you drink away all my stock in the meantime? Not likely."

Thor almost jumped when a man sat down beside him. He hadn't heard anyone approach.

"I'll pay for this gentleman's drink," the stranger said. "And I'll take the same as he's having."

Thor took a hard look at this unexpected benefactor. Long back hair, carefully tied in a tail at the nape of his neck but curling slightly at the temples where the rain and wind had spoiled it. Neat clothes, also black, but with a white cravat. Not at all the usual outfit of one frequenting a dockers' bar.

Delicate fingers and hands which were dry and cracked, perhaps from the cold but more likely from some kind of habitual use. This man certainly did not practise hard manual labour, but he seemed to do some kind of honest work at least.

And come to look at it, his clothes did seem to have seen better days. Not that Thor could really judge. His own garments had patches on their patches and were still paper thin against the North Sea wind.

The stranger caught him staring and smiled slowly, blinking carefully and deliberately as if to show off his thick lashes.

_Oh..._

Thor placed his hand over his glass before Volstagg could pour his whisky.

"I'm not selling what you're trying to buy," he said.

The man chuckled, a low and breathy sound.

"And what do you think that is?" he asked, an amused sparkle in his eye.

Thor looked away from him.

"I suppose the working girls can't provide what you want. You want someone to bend you over and fuck you senseless? Come looking for a bit of rough? Well, you've come to the wrong man."

"Thor," Volstagg said, a hint of warning in his voice. Unpleasant scenes were bad for business.

But the man was laughing again.

"As delightful as that sounds, _Thor,_ you're quite wrong. I have something heavy which requires moving urgently. You look like a man who knows his way around such tasks. And, of course, I will pay you for this service."

Money. Money meant drink. And food and a place to sleep, but those were secondary concerns.

"How much?" he demanded.

"Hmm... This first drink. A whole bottle of whisky for your very own. And a bed for the night in my home. Separate to mine, of course. Wouldn't want you accidentally falling into me cock first. I think that's more than fair for moving one little package, don't you?"

Although he was a little unsure, Thor cautiously drew his hand off his glass and held it out to shake. A bottle would last him all night, maybe two or three with a bit of luck.

"Excellent," the man said. "But I did mean urgently. Finish up and follow me."

Volstagg seemed uneasy as he watched them knock back their drinks, but he took the money anyway. He had mouths to feed after all.

The wind cut into Thor as soon as he was outside, attacking the raised blood in his cheeks and the shells of his ears, the rain from earlier reduced to drizzle as he hurriedly followed his new employer.

"What do you need moving?" he asked. "Building materials? Barrels?"

"Medical equipment. I'm delivering it to the surgical college. Don't worry though. It's in a barrow ready to go and it's not too far."

He lead Thor through a maze of alleys and closes, finally ushering him into a house and down into the basement. Sure enough, in the middle of a rather cluttered space, there was a large box perched on a wheelbarrow and a helpful ramp to exit through a trapdoor into a sort of yard at the back of the building. Whatever it contained was indeed heavy and Thor understood quickly why the man had not moved it himself.

He had never been to the colleges. Never been much beyond his work and the pubs and the house of whichever landlady would sell him a bed for the night. Perhaps he would have appreciated the building more from the main entrance, but he obediently followed down a narrow passageway and stood by while the man knocked at a door.

It was opened almost immediately.

"You're late," a gentleman hissed. "You were meant to be here last night. You've put us all into a right panic."

"Logistical issues. Minor labour shortage. Thor, take it inside."

He wasn't sure what was happening, but did as he was told, watching as two more young men hurried to open the box, revealing something in a sack within. His curiosity was distracted however by the clinking of coins into his employer's hand. Thor frowned a little. Several coins and not mere pennies. That kind of money would take him several weeks to earn. It seemed he'd sold his labour cheaply.

"I shouldn't let you come tomorrow," the doorman was saying. "You think you're indispensable?"

"I know that I'm the most reasonable of all your suppliers. I take most of my payment in kind after all."

The empty box was dumped back on the barrow as the men looked at him with some unease.

"Your... assistant. He's new," one said. "You trust him?"

"What, him? Never met him before in my life."

Laughter bounced off the walls while the doorman scowled and the others looked away.

"One of these days, you're going to get yourself into big trouble, Laufeyson."

"I imagine I will. Come, Thor. Let's go."

Laufeyson - finally, a name - stopped on the way back to his home to buy the promised bottle and only stayed in Thor's company long enough to show him to a shabby but clean bed. Apparently he had early appointments the next day.

From there, Thor was glad to sit in the dark, stare at the walls and drink until his eyes grew heavy and the warm embrace of dreamless sleep fell upon him.

He was grateful, if uneasy. He couldn't have achieved such a stupor without help. Perhaps this could be the start of a mutually profitable arrangement if he played his cards right.


	2. Chapter 2

Loki was practically shaking with excitement, perched on a good seat and waiting for the lecture to begin. The body was concealed by a sheet, and he wondered idly what wonders were about to be revealed to him.

The human body was so complex, so interesting. He had quickly become fascinated by it, desperate to know everything it was possible to know.

He resisted the urge to applaud when the doctor came in, greeting his students before beginning his lecture, pulling the sheet back to reveal the woman's head and shoulders but still maintaining her modesty. An older woman, unusually healthy-looking. There was no obvious indication as to how she had died. But then again, the knowledge imparted here could save thousands of lives. What did it matter in the grand scheme of things?

"Today we'll be focusing on the face, brain and throat," the doctor said. "Beginning with the voice box and vocal cords."

But Loki was suddenly barely listening. The face? No. No, they couldn't cut up her face. He hadn't had enough time, he had been too busy to...

He kept willing time to tick on, to run out before any marring could be done, to be able to complete his work before...

"Dermis, epidermis, who can succinctly define those terms for me?"

Loki felt a sickness roll through him like he had never felt in the lecture theatre, standing up and stomping out, fuming with rage.

How dare they? How dare they do that to him? After all he'd done for them, for their precious teaching posts. Two years now he's been their supplier, at potentially great personal risk. He didn't take the market rate and they were meant to make it worth his while to accept such a deal.

He rushed down the stairs to find Barton. That little wretch. He'd made sure of it, hadn't he? Made sure to spoil this for him.

Barton looked up from the chemical bath as he entered, but quickly turned away.

"Not indulging today?"

"He's cutting up her face."

"There are many diseases of the face, eyes, mouth and throat. It's important."

"But you know that I must have masks from them for my research. You know that. I can't work from this one now."

"So you'll lose one mask. It doesn't matter. There'll be another one along by the end of the month. You can plaster-cast it."

Loki scoffed.

"Is this because I was slightly late?" he asked acidly. "I told you, I had to find a new barrow man. My usual one decided the money wasn't worth his conscience and I had to pay off his mouth just in case."

That was a lie. His former barrow man had taken a short walk down the wrong alley and fallen down an unexpected flight of stairs. Even finding his home, his wife, to be told that he'd lost his senses in the accident had been a nightmare. And, of course, she'd had no idea of where the extra money on their table had been coming from. He hadn't bothered to enlighten her, just left a coin or two and ran for the docks to find a replacement.

"You were an entire day late," Barton said sharply. "We almost had to use an alternative vendor. And I'll remind you that you are not a student here. You are allowed into the lectures as a privilege and a payment, not as a right. But no, as it happens, this was always on the schedule. If you wanted to do your weird death mask, you should have arrived sooner. But I guess you were busy with your new employee. Drunk to look at him and not for the first time. His liver must be huge, all damaged and leaking. Dead by fifty if I'm any judge."

"Still a longer life than most."

He couldn't bear being here a moment longer and Barton had put the thought of Thor back into his head. How direct he'd been in refusing to be bought, and how easily led with the right promises.

Interesting. And that was not a thought Loki had often. Although he'd expected to only use his services once, thinking to find a new permanent solution afterwards, he couldn't deny being intrigued. He ought to research further, spend more time with him and discover just what it was that he liked about him.

Of course, it could just be that immediate denial. That flash of pride from an otherwise destitute man. Part of him wanted to see how far that apparently iron will would bend before it broke.

As expected, Thor was exactly where he'd left him, curled up around the quarter-full bottle. At least he'd jammed the cork back in before falling asleep. Loki eased it from his grasp, provoking a slight sleepy murmur of protest and set it on the floor.

Hmm... Thor did have an expressive face. It was worthy of further investigation. Loki fetched his notebook and a pencil, his rule and calipers. Perhaps the secret to this new interest of his could be found in the ratios of his features.

He'd taken three measurements before Thor woke up.


	3. Chapter 3

Something sharp poked Thor's nose and he tried to swat it away. Some biting fly. It moved to his temple and he grunted, hitting out and opening his eyes in surprise when his fingers came into contact with something metal.

A man gazed down at him, looking amused. Laufeyson, his mind supplied from somewhere in the depths of his hangover.

Last night swirled into memory. Volstagg's bar. Meeting this man and moving the barrow. Getting paid...

Laufeyson getting paid a lot and so little of it coming to him even though he'd done all the hard work.

"What are you doing?" he managed to croak.

"Just measuring you."

"Why?"

"Do you know of phrenology and physiognomy?"

Shaking his head made it hurt all the more.

"I am fascinated by them, I must admit. They are the study of skulls and facial features, and their relationship to personality and temperament. Hold still."

He held a large instrument, like an enormous pair of tweezers. Thor moved back automatically.

"Hold still! It won't hurt, I promise."

It didn't hurt, not as such, but it was unnerving. Thor felt like some zoo creature being examined so. It seemed an age to him before Laufeyson moved back and began confronting a notebook. Thor was struck by the strange intimacy of the situation, sitting in bed together as they were, and seized his bottle from the floor as a distraction.

"Mm. Just as I thought. You have an honest forehead, Thor. Honourable. But your cheeks... Oh, dear..."

"What of them?" Thor asked, curious despite himself.

"Your cheeks reveal that you are quick to anger. And you have quite the most arrogant chin I have ever come across. And as for your skull, I find great capacity for dedication and affection, but alas, you also have a highly engorged area above your left ear."

"And what does that mean?"

Laufeyson snatched his whisky from him faster than he could react, dangling it just out of reach.

"Increased likelihood of vice, particularly susceptibility to alcoholism."

Thor snarled.

"Does your skull say you're an annoying prick by any chance?"

A laugh and the bottle was back in his grasp, Thor hugging it to his chest protectively.

"You can tell my breeding from my facial structure. My intelligence from my brows. A quite ferocious case of ambition in the line of my mouth..."

His mouth didn't look ambitious to Thor. It looked soft, the kind of lips that could drip venom and make you believe them pearls.

"And here, at the top of my head. Can you feel that slight ridge?"

Thor was not convinced upon touching him, but agreed anyway.

"That... is a sure sign of moral flexibility. It can manifest in many ways. Maybe I'm a petty thief. Perhaps I am a vicious, lying gossip. Perhaps I am a depraved little harlot who loves to take cock."

It was said so casually that Thor jerked back in surprise and shock, drawing his hand away as though Laufeyson's scalp was red hot. And he was laughing again.

"You are so funny, Thor. So frightened. It's all right, I won't harm you. And you are welcome to stay here as long as you wish. Recover from indulgence at leisure."

He stood, apparently ready to leave.

"Wait," Thor said. "What did you take to the college?"

"I told you. Medical supplies."

"They paid you a great deal for them."

 _"Rare_ medical supplies. Why the interest? Are you considering a career change?"

Thor looked down at his roughened hands, the product of working so hard for so long.

"At the shipyard, I make enough to scrape a living if I work every hour God sends," he said. "If I go down today, I'll be docked to half pay and that's if another man hasn't taken my place. There's more than enough of us wanting work."

He could hear Laufeyson's footsteps approaching once more, tilting his head up with a finger under his chin, a painfully unfamiliar gesture that made him swallow hard.

"Would you like to work for me, Thor? Would you like to be my regular barrow man?"

"If that would be convenient to you. Sir."

Laufeyson's eyes narrowed slightly, as though considering.

"I make deliveries perhaps once a month," he said. "But I shall be generous. If you also undertake some minor household tasks - coal carrying, cleaning and so on - I shall let you have this room and board on top of modest pay. And of course, you must eat with me. I will not have you shutting yourself away where I can't see you. But otherwise, you may come and go as you please. How does that sound to you?"

It sounded like the best deal Thor had been offered in a long time. He kept telling himself that as his heart rate increased, reaching out to shake the proffered hand.

"Excellent," Laufeyson said. "Though I will be dining out tonight and so will not require you. You can make yourself comfortable."

He turned away again, but paused at the door.

"And Thor... Much as I enjoyed you calling me sir, I would feel more comfortable if you called me by my Christian name."

"Which is?"

"Loki. You may call me Loki."

He left and Thor flopped back in the bed. Loki... He should have guessed a name like that. Unusual and spiky. It suited him.

Before long, the burn of whisky met his throat once more. He'd run out too soon at this rate. He'd have to get more. Or maybe Lau... Maybe _Loki_ had a drinks cabinet somewhere.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Guess who did no research into "actual" phrenology...


	4. Chapter 4

What an interesting addition to the household Thor was. Of course, Loki didn't have servants as such so there wasn't really much of a household. There was a woman who came to prepare his meals and took away his things to launder them as best she could. He employed her more for her discretion than for her skills. She was not the type to question a little earth on his hems or blood on his cuffs, suspicious stains on the sheets. More than one man had bumped into her on their way out after sharing Loki's bed and she'd never said a word. Such a woman was worth rewarding.

How his father must be rolling in his grave to know of Loki's exploits. How modestly he lived having paid off the family debts, the house now entirely his. How he'd paid the mortgage off as soon as possible and felt no need for overly expensive clothes or things. How he spent his time almost equally among the professionals of the city and the working men.

How he had let the occasional member of either group take him to bed and fuck him blind, as long as he knew he wouldn't see them again, of course. Strictly one night only, that was the way to be.

And it had been a long time since anyone had seriously tempted him in that way.

The Phrenological Society were fun in their way. A little pompous, perhaps, but lively enough. And, of course, there were the games they played...

"An inch and three fifths between the pupils," a man said. "And three eighths between the nostrils. Guess the occupation."

"Come now, that's hardly fair," another coughed through a wave of cigar smoke. "What sex?"

"Female."

"Maid? Fish scaler? Bar keep?"

"Whore?" Loki suggested. "Or perhaps your lady wife, though you treat them much alike by all accounts."

He took a hefty mouthful of brandy as they glowered at him.

"Oh," he said, feigning shock. "Did I overstep the mark?"

"Least my whores are women," the asker grumbled.

"And I imagine you think your accusations are subtle enough to pass me by."

He laid his most recent death mask on the table, still annoyed that his second opportunity for a new specimen for this month had been denied to him that morning.

This was the real reason they tolerated him, of course. He brought first-hand experiments without the need for them to actually interact with a member of the stinking masses. He soon found himself surrounded as one man carefully measured and noted the features.

"Interesting. Very interesting. I'm seeing a picture of virtue. Not at all the usual kind of person you bring to us. She's recovering from whatever took her to the hospital?"

"I doubt it," Loki said. "Drowned, poor thing. They dragged her from the Water of Leith on Tuesday."

There was a respectful moment's pause before the clamour began again.

"Good breeding, intelligence, sweetness, gentility. Damn shame, really."

Yes, wasn't it just? A damn shame that she had died before having the opportunity of their unwanted attention. It was always like this with dead young women - "a damn shame," they'd say. They wouldn't have looked twice at her alive in the street last month, all soot and grime, but here in white clay, she might have been an angel.

It was all lies, of course. She hadn't drowned at all. The consumption had caught up as it had with so many others. Frail little body on the lecture theatre slab. Clear evidence of venereal disease. A habitual prostitute, trying to get enough to eat while her lungs rotted away in her chest and killed her.

But, of course, a damn shame that they had before any of these men were able to spend coin on her. Not that they'd likely remember her face if they had.

Loki liked to come here and listen to the thoughts and ideas and occasional downright nonsense. It was nice to come somewhere he could safely consider himself thoroughly above all others present. They relied on him, needed him, for he was the one who went to the source and made the masks. They thought he frequented the hospital for them. It wasn't quite a lie.

He found himself absentmindedly thinking of Thor while the others discussed. Now he had interesting features. Maybe he could be convinced to sit and have a life mask made. Lying on his back for a few hours? Loki could think of no better occupation for his new rough friend.

It was almost pathetic, he thought, looking in at himself from the outside. He thought himself so much better than these men and their lusts, but was he really any different?

Perhaps he could justify it to himself. These men bought their women with money alone - even their wives, really, with the promise of security - and pretended not to know how much they were hated. Loki was determined to normalise himself to Thor, so that if and when they finally did become intimate, it would be out of mutual desire. Assuming he could resist that long.

He took his leave a little early, somehow worried that Thor would have gone in his absence, even though he'd been the one to almost beg for work and board.

But no. He was asleep again, in the parlour this time, a plate and three empty bottles scattered on the floor around him. One was from the whisky they'd bought last night. The other two were filched from his own private supply and had both been at least a fifth full.

Loki sighed heavily, clearing up before going to fetch a couple of blankets and some kindling. It seemed he might have to put a lock on that cabinet.


	5. Chapter 5

Thor grunted, finding himself restrained, flailing mindlessly against the bonds.

"Ssh... You're safe, don't worry."

No, not restrained, not as such. He blinked himself awake, a brightness before him hurting his eyes and making him screw them shut. Fire. He had not lit the fire. And someone had tucked a blanket around him so tightly that it might have been his shroud.

"You were freezing when I came in," the same voice speaking again. "I'd hate for you to get ill."

"I'd warmed myself up well enough."

"Yes. I saw. At least you ate something too."

There was a pause, just the fire crackling to disturb the quiet. But then...

"Why do you drink, Thor?"

He wrenched his eyelids up to glare at Loki, who was sitting in the next chair and similarly bundled up. Only his head and neck stuck out from the top of his blanket.

"Why do you care?"

A shrug, barely perceptible through the thick fabric.

"I'm likely to be paying for your habit while you work for me. I'd like to know the reason."

Thor didn't respond, closing his eyes again and turning his head towards the ceiling.

"It'll kill you, you know?" Loki said softly. "Your liver will turn to scars and start to bleed. Your skin will go yellow, your eyes too. Your nails will grow brittle and thick. Your stomach will swell and your veins will burst and eventually you'll die."

"Maybe I don't particularly want to live."

"That's a shame."

"Is it? I've no family left, not here anyway. No wife nor child to mourn me, nor any thought of getting one. I wake and work and eat and sleep. And drink. That's all I have. All I ever will have. What does a man like me have to look forward to?"

"There must be some things that bring you joy."

He could feel Loki touching him, what was no doubt supposed to be a comforting hand on his arm, though he'd misjudged and got his thigh instead.

"Drink. Sleep. Good food."

"Sex?"

Thor snorted.

"Even if I'd had money left over to pay a woman for her trouble, I'd have drunk away my ability to follow through by the time I'd convinced myself the clap was worth it."

"Hmm..."

Opening his eyes again, Thor was shocked to find that it was not Loki's hand on him but his foot, emerging from beneath his blanket at the end of a pale calf, soft hair glinting in the firelight.

"Are you... naked under there?" he stammered.

"My clothes were wet. It's raining. Tell me more about yourself. What has made you stay alive this long if you care so little for living?"

Thor could not tear his eyes away from those hypnotic motions up and down his thigh, so careful and deliberate. He wanted to seize the delicate ankle and see if it was as smooth as it seemed.

"Thor?"

"I am afraid," he admitted, speaking haltingly. He was still a little drunk and that made him inclined to talk. "Afraid of what lies beyond this life. If it is worse, somehow. And sometimes, I... I have a good day. And so I have hope for another. But since my mother passed, I fear there will be no more good days. She was the only good thing in my life, really."

"When did she die?"

"Saturday. And now I believe it is Saturday again."

"Friday. Bad luck. Perhaps you forgot a week."

"With any luck, I did. I was passed out during her burial, I know that much."

He wasn't sure why it would be the case, but he couldn't shake the feeling that Loki was amused by him. Interested, certainly. More so than anyone he'd met before. It seemed he was genuinely interested in the answers to his questions and that he was desperate for company, even willing to put up with the rough kind that Thor could provide.

"Will you do me a little favour, Thor?"

And of course, Loki was his employer now. He had him at his beck and call.

"What is it?"

"I want to take a mask of your face."

Thor frowned, uncertain of what he'd just been asked.

"Don't worry. It won't hurt. Your face has such expressive features. I'd like to preserve them, that's all."

Loki was looking bright and animated, hungry almost as he stood up, his blanket wrapped around him like a crude robe.

"Come. I will show you."

Thor followed his lead, wrapping his blanket about his shoulders and allowing himself to be lead to another room. Loki's study, perhaps. It was a dark space, panelled in rich wood. No, not panelled as such. The walls were lined with drawers and sliding display cases, the kind he'd glimpsed once or twice in the foreman's office at the dockyard. Full of samples, they were, examples of the kinds of goods and services that Leith was proud to provide.

Loki's were full of faces.

Thor stared with undisguised wonder. Mask upon mask in white clay, each one delicately placed on a shelf beside a card neatly noting its dimensions.

"These are... These are all people you have known?"

"Goodness, no," Loki said. "I bought most of them. And then I took up the hobby myself, so a few of these are ones that I have made. Here, look. This one is my father."

He held up an example and indeed Thor could see the resemblance between them. The man was visibly older, but there was no denying the matching bridges of their noses or the cut of their cheeks.

"So? May I add you to my collection?"

An eccentricity. It was harmless.

"What does it require of me?"

Loki smiled at him, all sharp and eager.

"Why, nothing but perfect stillness."


	6. Chapter 6

Loki's bare feet padded around the kitchen as he gathered all that he needed, a pan on a low heat on the grange to make some warm water. He didn't normally bother, but then again his usual subjects weren't exactly about to complain about the cold. Thor seemed nervous about what was going to happen as Loki poured it into two bowls, one large and one small.

"Take these up and put them on the little table next to your bed, then lie down. It will be easier like that. I'll be up in just a moment."

Bandages. Plaster of Paris. Comb. Lard. Scissors. Towel. He put everything on a tray and took it upstairs, heart hammering.

Thor was lying stiff as a corpse, rigidly straight, fists clenched by his sides and teeth gritted.

"Relax," Loki commanded, placing his tools on the table next to the water. "You don't want to be strained for this. You just lie still, eyes closed, nice and neutral. Now lift your head a little."

He placed the towel carefully over the pillow and dipped the comb into the larger bowl.

"I'll talk you through each step since you won't be able to speak once we get started. I'm just going to smooth your hair back so I don't get any of it stuck."

Thor gradually began to breathe steadily, calmly, soothed by the gentle pass of the comb.

"And I'm about to smear a layer of lard over your whole face. It's just to make removing the cast easier. It may feel a little strange. Don't worry."

"I'm not."

"Good."

He at least tried to warm it between his hands before laying a thick covering onto Thor's face. Forehead, chin, cheeks, smoothing the bristles of his beard. The strange contours of the nose. The soft, delicate skin of his eyelids. He kept his lips for last, carefully coating them with the tip of one finger before wiping off his hands on the end of the towel.

"The easiest way for me to do this from this angle will be to straddle your chest," he said, matter of fact. "Put your arms out. I'll try not to put to much weight on you."

Spread wide, crucifix-form, Loki let his eyes wander over Thor's body as he poured the powdered plaster into the larger bowl of water and swirled the mix with his finger.

Then he dropped his blanket.

The chilly air of Thor's room made him shiver, but this was too good a chance to miss. Thor calm and trusting and forgetting that he was nude so very close by...

The snick-snick of the scissors through the bandages had him visibly on edge again, though he relaxed when the metal clinked back onto the table.

"Ready?" Loki asked, getting a short, sharp nod in return.

He stepped onto the end of the bed, carefully moving up before dropping into a crouch and shuffling until his knees were almost in Thor's underarms. Sitting up, he could easily reach the plaster and the water on the table.

"Keep still now."

He loved doing this. From the very first mask he'd made, he'd loved it. The steady, methodical nature of it, the sense of preserving something as fleeting and changeable as a human's features in three dimensions. Magic. That's what it was.

He began with the outline of Thor's face, right from the underside of his chin to the very edge of his hair in long, smooth strips. He knew Thor wouldn't complain if he pressed a little firmly, really seeking out the crevices as he spanned the bridge of his nose and bisected his forehead.

Bandage after bandage, soaked in plaster, steadily filling in Thor's whole face until only his mouth and eyes were left.

"I'm going to cover your mouth now," he murmured, voice gone low and gentle. "Your nostrils are yet bare, so you will still breathe easily."

In fact, he could feel Thor's breath tickling his fingers as he smoothed the plaster over his lips, taking care to define the curve of them, the plumpness. The part he wanted to nip between his teeth.

"Now your eyes. Don't worry. I'll be gentle."

And gentle he was, careful not to poke too hard, his touches feather light and fleeting.

"Still feeling alright?"

"Mm-hm."

"Good. Then I'll do the second layer."

Faster than the first since it was just for structure, but just as relaxing, and finally smoothing the whole thing with his fingers and copious amounts of plaster.

"There now," he said, deftly dismounting the bed and rinsing his hands in the small bowl. "That's the cast made. You just lie still while it dries and we can take it off."

He hadn't noticed that he'd grown hard during the process. Proximity to Thor's flesh, a reaction to the strange power he had and the intimacy of the act? Whatever the reason, he was and felt a rush of desire to do something about it.

"When it's off and completely dry overnight," he said slowly, trying to hide the fact that he was stroking himself. "Then I'll form the ceramic final version. We'll fire it tomorrow evening, unless I have business to attend to."

Thor made a vaguely questioning noise as Loki tried to control his own breathing.

"Sometimes imports arrive earlier than expected. You know how it is."

He was moving with purpose now, sure that Thor could hear the wet little sounds of flesh working flesh, but he was so close, just a little more...

He grunted slightly when he came, disguising it as a cough and catching his own spend while Thor turned slightly towards him, sightless but somehow knowing. He might have guessed. He might lie to himself and pretend he hadn't. For a mad moment, Loki wanted to smear the evidence onto the cast, to put himself in it, but that would be ridiculous. Thor would smell it for sure if he did that.

Still, he did feel strangely proud of managing to satisfy himself in Thor's presence without him being fully aware, even if he did have to clean his hands again before picking up his blanket as though he'd never taken it off.

The cast came free easily, the water standing by for Thor to wash the lard from his face. He still smelled of it when Loki dared to kiss his cheek, laughing when he flinched away in surprise.

"Thank you. It will be a masterpiece."

"You're welcome, sir. Loki."

So shy again? He really was a vexingly repressed fellow, apart from his drinking.

Well, Loki was going to loosen him up somehow, that was for certain.

Somehow.


	7. Chapter 7

To say Thor was unnerved living in Loki's house during his first month would be untrue. For the most part, he was happily left to his own devices. Of course, he swept and mopped and so on as best he could under the judgemental gaze of the woman who seemed to be the part-time housekeeper. That was the crux of the arrangement and so he intended to stick to it, working until he felt he had earned his first drink of the day.

But he did notice that Loki was a little... peculiar in his habits. He would generally be gone by the time Thor woke up and would either return rather late in the evening or in the early afternoon only to leave again in the night. Thor got used to his stomach rumbling in complaint while waiting for him, as he didn't dare eat alone.

It was a rule he broke only once and then found the drinks cabinet entirely empty the next morning. A punishment, evidently, and one that had sent him into a rage, tempted to smash all Loki's precious masks. But he didn't. He breathed deeply and grew calm. After all, if this was punishment, surely that meant the opposite might be used as a reward.

When he was demurely sitting at the dinner table that night, Loki had unlocked the cellar and poured him a dram from a new bottle. Just the one. But it was there in the cabinet waiting for him the next day, golden and shimmering and perfect.

He was not allowed into the cellar unless Loki was with him and it was always kept locked so he could not even if he wanted to. Apparently it was dangerous. Down there was where Loki had his little kiln for firing the masks in, along with several sets of tools and other strange devices. And the box was there. The strange, large box set on its barrow that he'd pushed up the hill on the night they met. He didn't ask questions and he got the impression that Loki liked that about him.

On the other hand, Loki loved to ask questions. He was forever asking Thor pointless things about his past and origins.

"But where are you from?"

"Here."

"You were born here, I've no doubt of that. But you have a slight lilt to your voice that is uncommon in these parts. And your name... Odinson. It's hardly local."

"My father was Scandinavian. But you knew that already. A fisherman. He drowned in a storm when I was 15."

"And your mother? Who was she?"

Thor sighed. He didn't mind it really, but being made to dwell on the past was not exactly his favourite way to pass the time.

"Originally, she was from the north. The Highlands, you know."

"Cleared?"

"Yes. Along with the rest of her village."

"Oh. Oh, I see."

Did he though? Thor's mother hadn't liked to speak of the Clearances, but he'd learned enough elsewhere. The imprisonments, the eviction notices served to families who couldn't read, the old people left to freeze and starve to death while their homes burned...

"So somewhere up there is a glen that your bones would call home," Loki said.

"I doubt it."

"Ever been up?"

"Why bother? I couldn't tell you where my family lived. I just know that there's sheep living there now, and that it's the same all over. Why waste money on travelling up there?"

"Hmm... Still, it explains a lot. You're not pure Celt. There is some Nordic in you. probably some Anglo-Saxon too."

"And what does that mean?"

"That you have a strong tendency to survive that is not necessarily shared by your Celtic brethren, no doubt inherited from your father's side."

Thor sniffed a little.

"You disagree?"

"I just think it's easy to accuse people of being weak when they have suffered, that's all. It's easy to blame people who didn't have the common sense to be born richer or luckier or in a more hospitable landscape."

He was being very serious and wasn't quite sure what to think when Loki smiled at him.

"You know, for an illiterate drunk, you're pretty sharp, Thor."

"Who says I'm illiterate?"

And maybe he was a little pleased when Loki seemed surprised. Two can play at being superior, you know.

"My mother was terribly keen on it," he said, pouring the dregs of the wine they'd shared at dinner into his glass. "No child of hers was going to suffer for a lack of education, even if it was rough around the edges. Couldn't afford school, so she taught me herself. Used to make me read everything. I was never allowed to go to bed unless I'd read something to her, even if it was just posters torn off the wall opposite."

There wasn't nearly enough wine, nor was it strong enough to touch him, but he was determined not to ask for more. His pride wouldn't allow it.

"What of you, then?" he asked instead, trying to shift focus. "Where are you from, Laufeyson?"

"Here," Loki said, smirking. "And you're such a clever fellow, surely you can surmise more of the truth."

Thor restrained himself to a small mouthful and set his glass down.

"Well, Laufeyson... You're Scandinavian. Like me. In part, at least because your hair... Well, it doesn't look like any one of my father's friends."

"Correct," Loki said, running his fingers through inky strands. He had it loose tonight, curling up in little flicks towards the ends.

"So your mother had black hair and married a norseman. And they were rich. You are a man of property, after all."

"Do I seem rich to you, Thor?"

"In comparison to myself, yes. A house of your own. A couple of servants. Possessions and clothes, books. I could not dream of such things."

"And yet, if my parents were to see me, how destitute I would seem to them. Funny, isn't it? Perspective."

Thor eyed him a while longer, noting the way he seemed to appreciate the attention and considered what to guess next.

"You resent them," he said eventually. "Your parents. And you reject the life they planned for you."

"Planned is a strong word. It suggests some degree of interest in me or my passions. They provided for me, of course, but gave no care as to what I actually wanted from life."

"Which is?"

"You really want to know?"

Thor shrugged. It took Loki a few moments to reply.

"I want to understand humanity. Completely. To know how it all works, the body and the mind, hereditary facts and environmental aspects and what they mean. Why am I the way I am? Why are you the way you are? What made us? What makes us different to each other? Is it parentage? Education? Situation, wealth, health, happiness, all of them? Are we different to our forbears? If we are, how different? Is our species moving forwards or regressing? These are the great scientific questions of the age and I want to know the answers. It quite consumes me."

He was rather vehement in a way that was almost worrying and Thor found himself somewhat adrift in the face of it.

"What for?" he tried. "I mean... Apart from just knowing, what use is it?"

"Oh, it has many practical uses. Imagine we could find out how to identify and cure criminality. How to prevent it. Isn't that useful?"

Thor frowned slightly.

"But crime is so often linked to poverty and that is far more easily understood than the human mind. And I know I am not an educated man, but I would have thought that deciding someone is a criminal before they act would be nothing but a way of ensuring it. Those who are villified may feel there is somehow permission or expectation to be villainous, or that it is the only option available to them."

Loki blinked at him once or twice and stood up abruptly, taking the empty glasses and plates to the sink and leaving them there for the morning, keeping his back turned. Thor wasn't sure what he'd said wrong.

"The marginalised are more likely to move to the margins of society and commit questionable acts?"

"Some of them, I think. Though I do not think such an excuse should be accepted for villainy, it is perhaps more understandable. A starving man is more likely to steal bread than one with plenty to eat, I would have thought."

Loki laughed, high and shrill, finally turning to face him again.

"It's amazing," he said. "How I can have a more stimulating debate and gain more ideas from you over dinner than I can from hours spent with half the doctors of this city. Speaking of which, please be ready at eight in the evening tomorrow. I have to make a delivery."

Thor felt a little wary, though he couldn't tell why. All he had to do was push the barrow after all. It was nothing.

"Will it be heavy?" he asked.

"Probably. It will work up your appetite for dinner."

He kissed Thor on the cheek, a habit he was beginning to get used to after the night with the plaster cast. That memory still gave him pause sometimes when he remembered what he'd thought he'd heard Loki doing. But other than this little act of affection, he was not overly flirtatious or suggestive and so Thor was happy to let it stand for now.

And if part of him even liked it, well, that was surely just a sign of how starved he was of human contact.

A starving man might accept even stolen kisses.


	8. Chapter 8

Thor was evidently awake and moving, though he had not ventured out of his room when Loki quietly went down to the cellar to push the barrow up to the source of his merchandise. This part he could do himself, the empty box light enough even as he pushed it up the steep hills to the cemetery.

He knew his industry. Each step was kept carefully separate. Distinct. Deniable for all the main players. And with him as the middleman, never the twain would meet.

Fandral irritated him on a number of levels, but having investigated a variety of gentlemen in his profession, it was obvious that he was the easiest to negotiate with. He had several children, probably more than the legitimate ones in truth, a long-suffering wife and a constant, desperate need for hard cash.

In short, he was the perfect target, almost too eager to be talked round to Loki's viewpoint via a little money.

Loki knocked, but strode into the small undertaker's building before getting an answer. It was dark in here, as usual, only a small lantern to illuminate Fandral's ledger. Names, dates, plot numbers, money owed... It probably didn't have to be as spooky as it was, but Fandral knew the value of appearances. Loki could respect that.

"Morning," he said. "I'm here for collection."

Fandral sighed.

"Slim pickings today, sir."

He didn't know Loki's name. Not his real one anyway. And he certainly knew that the name he did have was a lie, but didn't question it. Though not technically illegal, this was still dangerous ground. Things were safer this way.

"What do you mean, slim pickings? Not enough people have died this week?"

"Not enough died of things that can be explained as non-suspicious. You don't like the ones that are stabbed or broken. Other than those, we've mostly got sick kids. Hardly suitable."

"So there's nothing?"

"Oh, there's never nothing."

He stood up, taking his lantern and lighting up his silent companions. The sleeping. The gone. The physical remains just waiting to be buried. Relatives or friends or neighbours brought them here, ready for Fandral to tidy them up and put them into coffins or the mass paupers' grave. All a question of money, like so much else in the world...

"Take your pick - lady of the night, cause of death probably malnutrition or this gentleman, a visitor to our fair land according to the ones who brought him in, cause of death unknown."

"A foreigner?" Loki said, interested.

It wasn't unusual to have Irishmen, some French, Nordic like Thor, but something about the way Fandral said it...

"I'm not sure what I'm supposed to do with him, to be honest."

"How do you mean?"

"Well, he's Jewish. A foreign Jew with no name or family ties, it seems. I can hardly bury him here in the churchyard. They must have somewhere of their own in the city, but I don't know where..."

"Then don't. I'll take him. He's not from round here anyway. Who's going to come looking?"

It was a young man, which Loki found a little surprising. He'd expected someone older, if the death was unexpected. He seemed healthy enough. No obvious injuries or illnesses. Still... he'd do nicely.

They bundled the corpse into a sack and quickly carried it between them to the box waiting outside, the nails easily knocking home with just a fist. It took them mere seconds, a skill born of practice.

"Where's your boy?" Loki asked. Normally Fandral's eldest, a lad of 14, helped him push the barrow back to his cellar, leaving the body in the cool until it was time to transport it up to the college.

"He's sick. Don't you have someone who can assist?"

"Well, there's you."

"Me? No, no. I can't leave my post, you know that. What if someone came to organise a funeral? What am I meant to say, admit that I'm helping a snatcher?"

"Keep your voice down."

His options were limited. He couldn't handle the barrow himself with this weight on it, that was obvious. He could try to find someone on the street, but that had its risks...

And that left...

"Right," Loki said, pushing the barrow inside with a great deal of straining. "I'll be back soon with assistance."

"Hurry. You're not the only one taking risks, you know."

Loki banged the door shut on his way out and tried not to look like a man with something to hide.

Hopefully Thor would be sober enough to help at this hour.


	9. Chapter 9

"Thor! Thor, where are you?"

Thor wiped his brow. He was abstaining from drink today while he got his housework done, sweating both from nerves and exertion. The kitchen floor was glistening and his hands raw from the lye soap and scrubbing brush.

Footsteps came rushing along the corridor and he looked up to find Loki looking stormy and irritated.

"It's not eight yet, surely."

"No. Change of plans. Come on, I need you. Put on a coat. And tuck your hair under a cap or something."

"I don't have one," Thor said suspiciously.

Loki growled something unintelligible at him and left him drying his hands, throwing a hat at him from the end of the hallway.

"That should do. Hurry up."

It was past midday, just, the streets still busy as he hurried along after Loki up the hill. They were nearly at their destination when he realised where they were going.

"Greyfriars kirkyard?"

"Problem?"

"My mother is buried here."

Loki finally stopped in his rushing and looked back at him, an inscrutable expression on his face. Thor couldn't decide if he was pitying or empathetic.

"Come on."

Thor obediently followed, blinking as he entered a low dark building and was met by a frantic sandy-haired man behind a familiar barrow.

"Who's this?" the man demanded

"My valet," Loki said smoothly. "He's here to move our little parcel."

His eyes were growing more accustomed to the dim light, the sharp chemical smells, the unmistakable shapes beyond. This was the undertaker, the grave digger. Those were...

He could feel dread growing in his stomach.

"Come along. Let's get moving."

"I..." Thor began.

"Move!"

Loki slammed several coins down in front of the stranger and practically fled, holding the door open for Thor to push the barrow out.

"Loki..."

"Be quiet."

He was going to be sick. He knew what this was. He knew what he was pushing.

Loki led him to the same door at the back of the college that they had visited before, hammering on it frantically.

No response.

"Barton! Barton, open up!"

The door opened a fraction and Loki almost punched Barton in the face.

"What are you doing here? It's broad daylight!"

"Early delivery."

Loki shoved his way in, leaving Thor to stumble after him.

"Let me see it," Thor said tonelessly.

"You know what it is."

"I need to see it!"

Loki shrugged and made no attempt to stop him wrenching the pins out and removing the lid, almost ripping open the sack to look inside.

He thought he might panic. Scream. Rage. But he was numb in the face of what he already knew.

The man in the box might have been sleeping. He certainly looked peaceful, unknowing. Thor backed slowly away, wincing as he heard the coins clink into Loki's hands. Payment. The money he lived on and it came from this...

He wanted to run. He wanted to get a constable or something, he wanted to tell someone.

Loki looked at him warily, as though afraid he would do exactly what he was considering, taking up the empty barrow himself to push home. Thor followed him automatically, silently until they had put it away in the cellar, gone up to the kitchen and Loki started talking to him.

"I know what you're thinking, but this isn't..."

"You're one of them," Thor interrupted. "A snatcher. A resurrection man."

"It's not illegal. Bodies don't belong to anyone. You physically can't steal them. If they're not buried, it's not disturbing the dead."

Thor tottered to the nearest chair and almost fell into it.

"That was a person, Loki," he said. "That was a man."

"No," Loki's voice came from behind him, firm and vehement. "That was a corpse. The man had long since left the physical form."

He heard his footsteps retreating, and coming back, a glass of whisky coming into his range of vision. Not just a dram either, but filled to the brim.

"You think I'm so easy? That you can bribe me into understanding this with that?"

"You're shaking."

"But not because I haven't had a drink."

Somehow the glass ended up in his hands anyway, Loki coming round and kneeling on the tiled floor in front of him. It was so clean. He's scrubbed it so carefully.

"I know that it's hard to understand. But it is necessary. They need a constant supply of bodies to study. That man's corpse will help doctors learn their skills. His death will lengthen the lives of hundreds, maybe thousands of others. What use is burying him in the ground to rot away? None."

"You didn't ask."

Loki snorted.

"What? Ask the body?"

"No, but... His family perhaps."

A heavy sigh and Loki began absent-mindedly stroking his leg. It was distressingly pleasant and Thor had to force himself to concentrate and focus.

"He's no-one, Thor. No family. No-one to ask. He's dead. He's just flesh. That's all. Are you saying that you are nothing more than your flesh?"

"What?"

"Of course you're not. Your mind and your soul are what make you. Your flesh is just a shell. It doesn't have to obey you even."

"What are you talking about?"

Loki smiled slowly and ran a hand over the bulge in Thor's breeches. The bulge he hadn't even noticed. He shivered, hips twitching upwards towards the contact without his permission.

"See?" Loki said, increasing the pressure of his touches. "Intellectually, you know you don't want me. But your flesh... Your flesh is thinking of how warm and wet my mouth would be wrapped around your cock."

Thor blinked down at him, head foggy, and whirling, and lost.


	10. Chapter 10

Loki looked up at Thor's face, an expression of uncertainty masking the desire blooming in his eyes. His blood was high from the revelation, his glass clutched tightly in one hand. In another life, he'd look decadent, like Loki was his concubine, kneeling at his feet.

Mmm, that was a nice fantasy. It was not really in Loki's nature to allow himself to be subjugated so, but since he had the upper hand here, maybe he could play a little.

His fingers carefully found the buttons at the front of Thor's trousers, undoing them one by one and waiting for Thor to wake up and stop him.

He found himself biting his lip in anticipation as he drew out Thor's cock. Thick and warm, the heft of it in his hand for a moment and Thor gasping sharply.

Loki pushed his legs apart and settled between them, stroking his cock rapidly to full hardness.

"Let me please your flesh, Thor..." he whispered.

A grunt was all he got in response, even when he leant forward and took the head between his lips, teasing with his tongue and looking up. Thor's eyes were closed, his chest heaving. Loki sucked hard and then eased, amused to see how it made Thor's fingers clench helplessly.

He tasted faintly musky, salty and bitter, his veins prominent and easy to trace as Loki took him deeper, pushing forwards gradually and stroking what he couldn't fit in his mouth with one hand.

It had been a long time since he'd taken anyone into his throat so he had no desire to make an attempt, instead focusing on the rhythm of his tongue, the pressure of his mouth, the noises Thor was making.

Little noises, but there. It seemed Thor was trying to hold himself back.

Loki longed to hear him moan, to hear him cry out, maybe shout out his name in passion.

All in good time.

He'd been gentle for several minutes, working on a steady, constant pleasure rather than a frantic push to orgasm, when Thor's fingers tangled in his hair. He froze. Had he recovered from his shock? Was he going to forcibly drag Loki off, run away, seek the help of the authorities? That would be most inconvenient.

No, he was gripping firmly with one hand and pushing down, making Loki take him deeper.

"Mmm," Loki hummed approvingly, chuckling when the vibrations made Thor's cock twitch in his mouth.

Thor was still uncertain, not pressing too hard, but setting a rhythm nonetheless and Loki was only too pleased to allow himself to be controlled and used.

In his fantasy, Thor would be rougher, would seek to break him, but this was something he could work with.

He looked up from beneath his lashes to find Thor gazing down at him in wonder, his lips parted and a steady stream of gasps slipping out. His hips were moving a little, like he couldn't stop himself wanting to fuck deeper, to be completely enveloped. He hadn't spilled a drop of whisky yet, though it seemed forgotten in his other hand.

Still, his jaw was getting tired and his face strained, so it was time to make Thor come. Loki pushed down hard, almost enough for Thor to breach his throat but not quite, and sucked with all his might, swallowing and swallowing and feeling his heart leap as Thor finally let out an unmistakable moan.

"Fuck," he whispered. "Ah, fuck..."

A little more and he was done for, spilling into Loki's mouth and panting after it, releasing his death grip on Loki's hair.

He tasted like victory and Loki swallowed hard, making eye contact as he reached for the glass and made Thor tip it for him to drink from. The burn of cheap alcohol washed away any lingering bitterness, Thor's face still hooded and confused.

"You see?" Loki murmured. "Just flesh."

He placed a chaste little kiss on the tip of Thor's cock before tucking it away.

"I think I shall take a nap before dinner," he said, standing up finally, his own arousal obvious and evident. "This has been a busier day than I had anticipated."

He climbed the stairs to his chamber quickly, yanking his clothes off and throwing himself onto the bed, working his own flesh in long, strong pulls.

The expression on Thor's face, those sounds, the way he'd twitched so eagerly... He was exquisite, there was no other way to think of it. Surely he would realise the logic and importance of Loki's work. He had been very persuasive, after all.

And now that this first bridge had been passed, what a world of opportunity would be opened up to them. No doubt he would get to taste Thor again. And perhaps he would be curious and return the favour. Loki could picture it now, his lips stretched around his cock, those blue eyes looking up and pleading for praise.

It wouldn't be long until Thor was fucking him, he could feel it. And having seen his cock up close, it would be the most damned of lies to deny how much he wanted it.

It didn't take him long to spill over his own fingers just thinking about it.

Soon. It would surely be soon.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I promise that there is plot coming soon-ish.


	11. Chapter 11

Thor sat still, dazed. What had just happened? Why had he let it happen, why had he not stopped Loki as soon as he'd known of his intentions?

The glass bore a mark from Loki's lips. The faintest of smudges, but there nonetheless.

And just after he'd...

Thor downed the rest of the whisky in one go. 

This had been a calculated move on Loki's part. This was to distract him, of course, to stop him from thinking about the grisly business that Loki was in. That he was in now too.

Bodies. That's what he traded in. And he could see Loki shrugging, saying that everyone traded in bodies eventually. Thor traded his bodily strength, the girls on the street traded their flesh, even Hilde traded the fuel on which bodies ran. And he didn't kill the people whose bodies they were. He just moved the dead meat to somewhere it would be useful.

Thor stared down at his hands. He'd knowingly pushed that corpse to the place where it would be cut up and mutilated.

He had unknowingly pushed another body there, the same week he had laid his mother's earthly remains to rest.

The very same week...

He dropped the glass, shards splintering all over the floor, shaking hands flying to his face, a terrible hole in his heart filling with dread.

He wailed.

How he wished he'd done better. He wished he'd been a better son, he wished he had been there with her at the last. He wished that he'd been able to provide a home for her after Father died, a proper one, that she hadn't had to work herself to death in the homes of strangers. She'd had to live with them instead of her own family.

She'd wanted that life for him too, certainty and security that was better than his hand-to-mouth life at the docks. But he had been too insolent and mouthy for service, in the eyes of most respectable people anyway, so he had bounced from job to job, only seeing his mother's tired eyes and smile on Sundays.

She'd always seen the best in him, even when he couldn't see it himself.

He had taken her and her love for granted and now there was the risk that he had unknowingly delivered her body to the surgeon's knives.

And if he asked, Loki would twist it so he would feel foolish for worrying. He'd avoid the question and duck and do something unexpected until Thor was confused. It would be like trying to grasp moonlight.

The masks though... He had his suspicions now. How still he'd had to be for it to be made. How corpse-like. Would there be evidence there?

Glass crunched under his boots as he went to the mask room, pulling out display cases at random. He wasn't sure what he would do if he found his mother here. Leave? Do something more drastic? He wasn't sure.

He just had to know.

The current case. There was his own face with its dimensions neatly inscribed next to it. Loki had said something about taking it to his club later to let other phrenologists look it over. The idea of his measurements being used to discern his personality by strangers made him feel uneasy somehow, though he knew he would be unlikely to meet the gentlemen in person.

His mother's mask would be close by if it was here. Her death was recent, after all.

A young woman. Three old men. Two more women. Not her.

He scolded himself for being relieved. These people had had families and lives. Just because he didn't know them, he didn't care?

Then again, a hundred people died in the city every day, probably more. Maybe his heart just wasn't big enough to have room for them all.

And Loki said they were learning to save lives. What was his squeamishness to the potential use? Was it really better to think of his mother lying dead beneath the ground, in the pauper's graves, rotting away?

And the money...

He was being selfish, he knew. He was thinking of the harsh embrace of the bottle, the security he had here, the knowledge that there was a bed for him, food, drink, company...

His thoughts flew back to the image of Loki kneeling on the floor, the feeling of his mouth.

Just flesh. That's all he was. That's all anyone was. Just reeking, rotten flesh in the cold earth. On the surgeon's slab in the lecture hall. Unknowing and unfeeling. Did it matter?

Did anything matter anymore?

He didn't know what he thought. What he believed or didn't, what he abhorred and what he wanted.

Moving mechanically, he fetched the brush and pan and swept up the broken glass.

Loki let him eat in silence that evening, though his eyes were sharp and followed his every motion. Well, he could wonder and question all he liked. Thor had no intention of enlightening him about his thoughts even if he could make sense of them.

There was no attempt at a goodnight kiss.


	12. Chapter 12

He was a handsome fellow, Loki thought as he propped the dead man's head up to keep it steady while he worked. Not as handsome as Thor, of course, but handsome enough.

"I had to shave him," Barton said from the doorway. "Next time no fuzz, thanks."

"Well, they all have beards, don't they?" Loki replied, mixing his plaster.

He actually rather liked Barton, in a strange way. He at least had a bit of life in him, even though he worked with the dead. Stimulating conversation. An exciting frisson of disdain that almost made Loki want to seduce him. Hateful sex was a lot of fun in his experience.

But he had Thor now. One at a time.

"What do you mean?"

"He's foreign. And Jewish, apparently. It'll be interesting to see him worked on."

"I expect it will be much the same. See one spleen, you've seen most."

"Mmm. But just think. Different diet. Different lifestyle. Perhaps it makes a big difference, perhaps not. And I want to know how he died. There's no cause that I can see. He's young, nourished, not a mark on him. It's odd."

"Well, if the police start sniffing around, I'll give them your name."

Loki laughed. An empty threat. If they were caught, the mobs would be at all their doors.

Because people were stupid.

They put their petty morality above progress. Fought for the dead instead of the dying. Laid down their lives for causes and kings and let their bodies be wasted when there was so much to learn from them.

He still hadn't spoken to Thor about the revelation, or what followed. And Thor was gruff when they did speak, evidently trying to untangle his mind. He had always taken a little coaxing to converse with, but now he was especially withdrawn. And yet he hadn't left. 

No doubt he was learning something new about himself - that he was willing to compromise his beliefs for a warm bed and a steady stream of whisky. That he had liked the touch of another man, that he might welcome it if it was offered again. Such paradigm shifts could shake even the most sure person and Thor was far from that.

He enjoyed taking Thor's mask to the phrenologists, watching them rave about the set of his jaw, the light lines on his face. Such a noble bearing, they said. Clearly here was a gentleman of substance.

How delighted Loki was to reveal that he was the half-Norse son of a cleared Celt, child of Jacobites no doubt, and employed in Loki's house as a servant of all work. The looks they gave the mask then, pitying and suspicious. And then suddenly they saw clear signs of inbred criminality, weakness of character, deviantism. How funny that their prejudices showed so easily.

Thor was no deviant, not yet anyway, and Loki was determined to bring things to a head, as it were, sooner rather than later.

He took the plaster cast home carefully, ready for the real ceramic and firing later in the week.

Thor was almost despondent at dinner, eating in tight silence.

"So, Thor," Loki began as they finished up, wanting a change. Any change. "Tell me what you know of the human body."

A glare from Thor, blue eyes full of thunder as he speared his last carrot with his fork.

"I can tell you no Latin."

"That's not what I meant. What do you know of it's functions?"

"Functions?"

"How does the whole thing work?"

Thor seemed resigned to his fate, sighing and sipping his wine before responding.

"Brain runs everything. Heart pumps blood. Lungs breathe. Food fuels it. Stomach breaks down food. Waste comes out. Liver handles drink. And I expect kidneys have a role, though generally I am more accustomed to them when encased in pastry."

Impressive. Thor knew more than Loki had expected.

"They clean the blood," he said. "Very important organs."

"Hmm. Well, there you go. How wonderful to learn something new."

His voice was low and dull, expressionless and empty. Loki fixed him with a look, enunciating clearly so his meaning couldn't be ignored.

"If you let me, I could teach you a lot about your body. What depths of pleasure it can reach. What heights of ecstasy."

Almost imperceptibly, Thor's breathing sped up. Loki reached out and took his wrist, two fingers pressed to his pulse point.

"When you're excited, or frightened, your heart rate increases. When you feel desire, your pupils dilate..."

"What does that mean?"

Loki leant closer.

"The black circles in the centre of your eyes go wide and open."

Thor gazed into his face, looking for the telltale sign, no doubt, a slight blush rising on his cheeks.

Seizing his moment, Loki stood and circled the table, sitting astride Thor before he had time to respond.

"Have you any knowledge of erogenous areas of your body?"

"No. What are they?"

"Just parts that respond particularly well to gentle touch. Ears, for example. The neck. Nipples."

He ran his finger softly down from the shell of Thor's ear to the side of his throat, down to the stiffening nubs on his chest, teasing them, making Thor's breathing grow short, a slight but unmistakable stirring beneath him.

"Why do you think men practise sodomy, Thor?"

He was like a startled deer, almost trying to push Loki away but too stunned to manage it.

"Shall I tell you? It's because when done right, it feels so, so good. There is a gland within us - trust me, I have seen it up close - which responds so well to pressure. The feeling of fullness is pleasant enough, but the motion against that spot... Indescribable. And as for the... active party, as it were..."

"I... I know. I have... With women, I have... Some time ago and not like that, but..."

"Mmm. So you know of the warmth of another body. How good it feels to be buried in willing flesh. I am merely saying... that I am here and willing, if you wished to experience that again."

He was rocking his hips, grinding against Thor's erection and leaning close, pulling back with a smile when Thor gazed at him with some degree of purpose in his eyes.

"I'll leave you with that thought," he whispered, so close that his breath would tickle Thor's lips. "Good night."

He had not taken three steps out of the room before he heard the scrape of Thor's chair against the floor and his footsteps as he hurried to follow.


	13. Chapter 13

Thor's heart was pounding in his ears, a strange burning deep in his gut, a desire that he hadn't felt in years.

He cornered Loki in the hallway, not that he was exactly trying to escape, pinning him against the wall.

The sharp smile told him he'd been played, but right now he couldn't bring himself to care. Loki slipped a thigh between his legs, letting him grind against him, relieve some of the pressure.

"This... I don't... This doesn't mean that I..."

"Hush," Loki whispered. "Of course not. Doesn't mean anything. Just bodily responses."

He ran the tip of his tongue over his upper lip and Thor _lunged_ to rip at his clothes, getting a yelp of surprise but then a moan of pleasure.

Loki's hands felt wickedly good running over his skin. He seemed to know just where to touch, just where to squeeze and stroke, fingers slightly chilled as they slipped beneath his shirt and skimmed the hem of his trousers.

But then he was pushing away and Thor found himself whining, denied, being laughed at, his chin caught in Loki's grasp.

"A little patience, if you would. Much as I'd enjoy being held up and pounded into the wall, there is something rather necessary upstairs."

"What?" Thor growled, disliking this convoluted talk.

Loki walked with a slight awkwardness, heading for the upper levels.

"I'll need to be slick if I'm to take your cock. Come. We'll be more comfortable in my bed."

Part of Thor hesitated. Loki's bedchamber. He hadn't ever gone in, not even to clean, not even to leave coal by the fire. But he wanted this. Damn him, he wanted...

It was just a room. No different to any other. A large bed, a writing desk, a dresser and wardrobe. All the things a man of Loki's status would have. And in the centre...

His breathing seemed overly loud, echoing around the room as he watched Loki finish stripping, his skin as white as the clay that formed his masks, his hair like ink falling down his back, the plump curve of his behind and his... his cock, full and straining.

They were really going to do this, weren't they?

Loki bent over the dresser dramatically, no doubt deliberately flaunting his form, and removed the blankets from the bed before settling himself upon it, a small bottle held in one hand.

"Come on, then," he said, uncorking it and pouring the thick, oily contents over his fingers. "Let me see you."

Thor's hands were slow, but he didn't have much to take off. Shirt, boots, trousers, small clothes, socks. He kept pausing, the sight of Loki reaching between his legs proving too distracting.

He wondered how it felt, that alien sensation of fingers reaching inside. The sounds Loki was making, little grunts and huffs that weren't pained exactly but which didn't really sound pleasurable either.

"Don't just stand there. Come here."

He was cautious, unsure whether he was predator or prey here. Loki was like a spider, luring him into his web, and no amount of struggling would get him out of it.

Loki's eyes shone with excitement, with lust, reaching for him with his clean hand. The bed dipped beneath him, crawling closer, almost whimpering when Loki gripped his cock firmly, coating him in oil.

"Do you want to see my face?" he asked.

"What?"

"Do you want me on my back or my stomach? I have no preference."

Thor considered for a second before manhandling Loki onto his hands and knees, getting a pleased noise. He didn't want to see the triumph in Loki's eyes anymore.

His hole was glistening, stretched open, and Thor couldn't help but stare, tracing a finger around the outside, almost startled when the action made Loki gasp sharply.

"Thor," he whined. "Come on, do it. Fuck me."

His cock twitched at the very word, eager for it.

He shuffled closer, just a little awkwardly, until he was close enough to line up and gingerly start pressing inside.

How strange it was to see Loki's flesh yield to him, to hear his own moan as he was gripped by tight heat, so much so that he wondered if he would ever be released. Loki was gasping and panting with effort and he found himself patting his hip vaguely, as though trying to soothe a spooked dog.

But then Loki was rocking back against him, encouraging, and his pats turned to firm grips as he began to take control.

How long had it been since he'd had even the least amount of intimacy with another person? Too long. He hadn't taken himself in hand for a while either. Somehow it just hadn't appealed.

But this... Oh, this was heaven.

He grew rougher without even really realising, but Loki seemed to like that, laughing and moaning, his fingers knotted in the sheets.

Well, the fingers of one hand anyway.

"What are you... Ah, what are you doing?"

"What do you think I'm doing?" Loki retorted. "Mmm, don't stop."

He knew suddenly, realisation dawning that Loki was working himself to completion. Part of him wanted to prevent it, to punish him for... for everything, but it was quickly overruled by the feeling of muscles clenching hard, of overwhelming pleasure.

He heard Loki cry out and felt him go limp and fall forwards, only managing a few more strokes before he spilled inside without thinking.

Their panting echoed, a strangely loud sound in a quiet room. Thor felt his cock slip out and practically fell onto the bed, still processing what had just happened.

Loki rolled over and cuddled into him, trying to arrange his arms into an embrace.

"I think you liked that," he said softly.

Thor didn't respond.

"I know I did. Who needs skill with a tool like that?"

Thor managed to turn enough to frown at him, getting a giggle and a finger pressed to his lips.

"Don't argue," Loki said. "Just relax. You've earned a little nap, surely."

He did fall asleep after a few moments.

His lips tasted faintly of salt when he woke up. Loki had left him to his dreams.


	14. Chapter 14

Loki stretched his legs luxuriously out under the table at the club, feeling the pleasant twinge of his muscles.

The foreigner's mask was being measured and discussed somewhere to his left, but he was more focused on the happy fog he'd been in for the past week.

It was difficult in some ways to deal with Thor. On the one hand, he refused all intimacy. He didn't want to see Loki's face during sex or to kiss him afterwards and even when he fell asleep in Loki's bed, he refused almost all attempts at embraces. Which was a great shame. His arms were so strong and comforting. Loki dearly wanted to sleep in them by right rather than unconsciousness.

However, his roughness and his stamina... Mmm. It had been a long time since Loki had had one of his calibre and certainly not more than once. And so easy to entice too. A flash of skin and Thor would fall upon him, growling and desperate.

He genuinely wasn't sure if Thor had noticed that he hadn't drunk quite so much since they started. He'd slowly started to replace alcohol with sex, or at least he was perhaps subconsciously ensuring that he was still capable of performing, as it were.

They still hadn't really talked about his business, but Thor hadn't gone anywhere, so perhaps he'd made peace with his own morals.

And speaking of which...

"No. Definitely not. Look at the brows. Unmistakably Slavic."

"Maybe, but I'm telling you, he's nobility."

"And what evidence do you have of that? I see none."

Loki forced himself to listen. This was an interesting turn of thought. His nameless corpse a nobleman? They really were delusional.

"I don't need evidence. I know who he is. Dear old Laufeyson is having a joke at our expense."

Various suspicious stares fell upon him as he sat up, wincing a little for Thor had had him bent over the nightstand not two hours previously.

"Am I?" he said, tone light. "What an accusation!"

He struggled to remember the name of the man addressing him. Pearson? Pieters?

Pierce, that was right. Quiet, usually. Tended to fade into the background.

"I met this man," he insisted. "As, I assume, did you. A flying visit. Househunting. Plans to come back with his sister."

Loki shook his head.

"You're mistaken, Pierce," he said. "This is an unknown, a Jew found in one of the back alleys. He's no-one."

"Stop teasing. This is Pietro Maximoff, part of an ancient dynasty. They're from... Oh, you know. Eastern Europe. Those irritating little countries, all Ottoman or Austro-Hungarian. Got him to sit for you and then pretended he was a corpse? You really are a card."

"No, hang on," came another voice, a small balding man whose name quite escaped Loki's mind. "I saw him from a distance and he had a beard. This fellow is very cleanly and smoothly shaven."

Loki seized his chance.

"You really think I would ask a man to shave in order to play a mere joke? No, I promise you, he is as I say. No-one."

Pierce looked again at the mask and Loki was suddenly grateful that Barton had felt the need to remove the corpse's facial hair. And he was right in any case. This was no Maximillian or whatever. It was a different man.

"Hmm. Perhaps I am mistaken," Pierce said. "He was only here for a few days before heading on for England. How long do your masks take?"

"Oh, hours. I could make yours, if you wished."

He wouldn't mind dropping Pierce off with Barton at this stage of things. Questioning him so, arguing when he was clearly wrong. The man was imbecilic in the extreme.

"No, thank you. Much like the honourable Mr Maximoff, I have more valuable things to do with my time."

"I don't!' A voice from the back. "I'll have one."

Loki looked at the speaker in disdain. Ward was probably the youngest member of their group, handsome in a physical way but dull enough to bore Loki to tears. He was a firm believer in certain aspects of hereditary phrenology, such as what he saw as the impenetrable and evident superiority of the ruling classes.

As someone a mere few steps below the ruling classes, Loki couldn't agree. After all, his parents had been unchanging and anti-progress and anti-knowledge and clearly any superiority in himself was his own and not inherited like an old wardrobe. It made talking to Ward a chore.

But then again, he had just offered and it would give him a chance to remove the questionable corpse's mask from discussion.

"I am a busy man," he said. "But if you are free for the rest of the evening, I could make the first cast."

Ward agreed and Loki quickly wrapped up his porcelain, bid everyone good evening and led him back to the house.

A wicked idea was taking root in his mind, and as was his wont, he was quickly thinking of how he might indulge himself.

Though, of course, he would need Thor. Hopefully, he hadn't yet gone up to bed.


	15. Chapter 15

Thor awoke on the couch when the door opened, earlier than expected.

Also unexpected was that Loki had company. Thor half-stumbled to the doorway and looked the man up and down. Young and handsome and with that same kind of cultivated surety that Loki had. Another rich man then. Perhaps some kind of arrangement existed between them.

Jealousy rose absurdly in his chest, looking to Loki for some kind of explanation.

"Thor, head to the kitchen and set some water to heat. This is Mr Ward, an associate of mine. I will be taking a mask of his face on the table."

Thor nodded stiffly, mumbling out a "yes, sir" before going to do as he was bid.

Associate. What did that mean? Was he right to be suspicious. Was mask making just a ruse, a story, just a cover for Loki to take another man to his bed?

Not that he _cared_ if Loki wanted to fuck someone else, of course. But it did seem an insult towards his skills. Already he was seeking out another partner when they had... When they had been together in that way mere hours earlier? Normally Loki would at least sleep in-between times.

The water began to steam as he gathered the other supplies he knew Loki would need; the bandages, plaster, lard and so on.

"Well, you have this one well-trained," he heard the unfamiliar voice saying. "Didn't you bring his features along for us to take a look at a few weeks ago? He looks familiar."

"Indeed," Loki said. "Lie on the table and keep very still."

"I believe I commented then on how suited to service he is," Ward said, climbing up on the rough wood and lounging back, blinking as Loki laid his equipment out around his head. "That jawline, so strong and loyal and yet those soft eyes. You can see it. He is so keen to serve. You're lucky to have him. So naturally obedient. Just right for one of his rank."

Thor wanted to punch this Ward, whoever he was, but Loki was looking over to him with bright, shining eyes as he reached for the lard. Like he was trying to tell him something.

"Now, of course, you won't be able to speak while I do this, or open your eyes. But don't worry. I'll talk you through each step so nothing will be unexpected. Close your eyes and relax. That's it."

He was standing bent over Ward's head, his arse pointed outwards, and looking at Thor meaningfully. If only he could guess what meaning that was.

"Stay quiet now," Loki said, keeping eye contact with him as he undid his trousers and let them silently fall to the floor. "We're going to start with the lard. The more we use, the easier it is."

Thor approached, questioning, Loki's hands beginning to move over Ward's face. A touch to his hip and Loki nodded, eyes flickering shut and biting his lip.

Oh, so that was what he wanted. The risk of being caught, the danger. 'Stay quiet.' It was obvious. He wanted to fuck with only inches between him and his associate. Without him guessing what was happening so close to him.

The first bandage was being dipped in the warm plaster as Thor ran his finger through the lard and brought it to Loki's entrance. He was still loose from earlier, but there was nothing wrong with being careful. He heard Loki's long sighing exhale as he pushed in with two fingers, testing the stretch.

"It's wonderfully relaxing, isn't it?" Loki murmured, widening his stance just a little as Thor undid his trousers. "Gentle. And peaceful."

Ward's murmur of agreement covered the slight clinking of his belt.

No sound. That was the important thing. Thor slid home silently, but knew he couldn't pound into Loki as he normally did, both for the noise and because Loki had to use his hands for something other than gripping onto the edge of the table for dear life.

Instead he took a firm grip of Loki's hips and began to move him in tight little circles, just enough to ensure a tint amount of friction.

"Perfect," Loki said, his voice just a hint breathier than before. "Now I can start filling in the rest of your face."

Thor pressed his lips to Loki's neck. He still refused to kiss him properly, but this was just a little reward for not abandoning him for someone new.

He had to bite back a grunt when Loki clenched tightly around him in response.


	16. Chapter 16

There was no way Loki was actually going to come from this, but that wasn't the point. The point was to enjoy the thrill of having sex so very close to Ward's head without him even being aware.

No doubt Ward really wanted Loki to make a pass at him so he could loudly and probably violently refuse, proving to himself once again that he was superior. He would not sink to Loki's level. 

Well, it would be difficult to sink upwards after all.

"I'm going to cover your eyes and then your lips. Don't worry. I'm always very gentle."

It was a little difficult to stay steady with Thor rolling their hips together faster and faster. His cock was all the way in all the time, pressure building and building. Loki felt it as his own length leaked, dripping onto the floor.

Hopefully Thor's heavy breathing was only audible to him. Still, he reached back and gripped Thor's thigh, stilling him but keeping him inside, nice and warm. He was confused, evidently, but Loki knew what he was doing as he hurriedly dumped bandages into the plaster.

"I'll just quickly do the second layer and then it's just a case of lying still and waiting for it to dry."

He could feel Thor twitching, eager and ready, just as he wanted him to be as his hands danced over Ward's face. A rough job, perhaps, though hr couldn't bring himself to care.

"If you'll excuse me for just a moment," he said, trying to keep the desperation from his voice. "I'll return to check on you very soon."

Pushing Thor out was torture, but they gathered up their trousers and hurried through to the parlour, just far enough away that they could make a little noise.

"Tease," Thor growled in a voice that made Loki's knees weak.

He wrapped his arms around Thor's neck, hands still covered in plaster, moaning happily when he took the hint and picked him up, holding him against the wall.

"Yes, like this. Give it to me. Come on."

A little awkward fumbling and then Thor was shoving into him again, a different angle and setting a fast pace almost immediately.

"You are filthy," Thor said. "Fucking in front of your friend."

"He's not my friend. Oh, Thor... Ooh, just like that. You liked it, then?"

"What?"

Loki arched his way off the wall a little so he could whisper in Thor's ear.

"You liked being in me in front of someone else. You liked staking your claim. You liked... Oh, fuck!"

Thor was evidently tired of being teased, surging forward in a way that knocked the breath from Loki's lungs, pounding into him hard and fast.

Without thinking, Loki reached for his cock, the drying plaster flaking off or mixing with his prespend, perhaps a little too rough against such sensitive skin, but he couldn't care, not with the way Thor was treating him.

"My claim," he was saying. "And what claim is that, sir?"

Loki moaned helplessly, so very, very close.

"Do you mean coming inside you? Filling you with it, leaving you open and wet? Is that what you want?"

"Yes," Loki panted. "Oh, yes, yes, give it to me."

Thor snarled, a few last hard thrusts that were enough to make Loki come, feeling it as he clamped down and pushed Thor over the edge as well.

He felt shaky when Thor put him down, his heart going too fast. And of course, now they were both filthy. They couldn't go back to the kitchen looking or smelling like this and had to sneak upstairs to use Loki's ablution basin. Ward would nearly be done when they finished.

Cleaning the watery plaster off his cock stirred something in Loki. Some faint idea. He wasn't even sure it would work, but... Well, now it had taken root, he would have to try it.

"Still awake under there?" Loki asked when they returned downstairs.

"Mmph," Ward said.

"Good, good. Now, I think you should be dry enough..."

The lard had made Ward's face a little pink, a distinctly sunburnt look about him as he rinsed it off in the now cold water.

"That wasn't hours," he said. "Not very long at all."

"Well, young men are faster. Not as many crevices to get into."

"Huh. So what now? It doesn't look like the ones you bring to the club."

"No. Now I carefully close up the nostril hole and leave it to set completely overnight. Then I'll fill it with the usual porcelain clay and fire it. I assume you're planning to keep it for yourself, so I'll bring it for you next time."

It was a dismissal. It was clearly a dismissal. And yet Ward hovered.

"The mask you brought this evening. It did bear a remarkable resemblance to Pietro Maximoff."

Loki sighed angrily.

"It was not him. If he'd been in the hospital morgue, someone would have known. And I would not have shaved him. I did not shave Thor when I made his mask. Believe me, Pierce is mistaken."

"If you're sure."

"I am. Good evening, Ward. Let me show you the door."

He threw the locks into place, leaning heavily against the wood once he'd successfully banished Ward from his home.

"Who's Pietro Maximoff?" Thor asked from the other end of the corridor.

"No idea. Some Slav nobleman who visited recently. They've got it into their heads that the last corpse I delivered to the college was him."

Thor took a worried step forwards.

"They don't know, do they? About... what you do?"

"Of course not. They think I take my masks from the hospital morgue or from living patients. But don't you see? What would a foreign nobleman be doing in Greyfriar's kirkyard? It's not him. It wouldn't make sense for it to be him."

Thor still seemed troubled, fiddling with the hem of his shirt.

"The first body I moved for you," he said. "Who was it?"

Loki deliberately walked past him towards the kitchen. He was in need of a drink. No doubt they both were.

"Why do you ask?"

"Just... Who was it?"

Who was it? Could he even remember? Let's see, he'd had to find Thor but he'd already brought the barrow down with Fandral's lad and he'd picked out...

Oh, the woman. The one he had no mask from.

The one he'd taken within three or four days of Thor's mother dying. Who would be about the right age and colouring to be...

He set out two glasses and filled one to the top, the other halfway with whisky, proffering the full one to Thor.

"It was a man. Old. Or at least appearing so. Dead of the cold. I remember how gnarled and twisted his fingers were. We can go and find his mask if you like."

Thor shook himself lightly.

"No," he said. "No, just... being stupid, that's all."

Loki downed his measure in one.

"I'm going to bed. Feel free to stay up and have a few more. And tomorrow, I want you sitting on the table as soon as we're alone. Lunchtime should do."

He saw Thor go tense and let him stew in it. If he wanted to anticipate a punishment for being so nosey, that was fine.


	17. Chapter 17

Thor woke earlier than normal with a distinct feeling of trepidation deep in his stomach. What was going to happen when he met with Loki? Was this a punishment for his curiosity last night, or was it something Loki had planned for some time?

He couldn't deny, in the time since they had... become known to one another, he had been expecting Loki to attempt to change their usual arrangement. That he would want to... To be the one on top, as it were. And Thor wasn't sure if he would say no.

The thought kept rolling through his head all the while as he was sweeping and scraping out the grate in the parlour. Would he resist? Would he fight? Loki certainly seemed to enjoy what they did together. Was he actually a little curious to know what it was like as an experience? Was he willing to admit that even to himself?

Maybe the wait was the punishment. Maybe his nerves were supposed to torture him so Loki wouldn't have to.

He couldn't deny that it was working as the hour approached, the sightless gaze of Ward's plaster cast seeming to bore into him as he waited and tried not to shake.

Loki appeared ten minutes after he'd said, each one worse for Thor than the one before, nodding approvingly.

"Alright," he said. "Hop up and let me take a look at you."

Thor's chest heaved as he sat on the edge of the table and Loki walked away out of sight. He couldn't quite crane his neck to see what he was rattling with, a splash of water from the fresh bucket and the sound of the range being adjusted.

"What are we...?" he tried. "What will we be doing?"

"I had an idea last night," Loki said, as though he hadn't heard. "About how odd it is that I have never attempted to preserve body parts other than faces."

Thor said nothing, his heart loud in his ears.

"Come on, Thor. You must know what I'm thinking of."

His mouth was so dry, his knuckles white where he gripped the edges of the table.

"Which part of you do you think I might want to preserve?"

He came back into view, all his mask-making equipment on a tray, and testing the temperature of the water before kneeling down and starting to unfasten Thor's trousers.

"Don't worry," he murmured, tugging them down to Thor's ankles. "I'll finish you afterwards."

Thor whimpered as Loki took his cock in hand stroking him to hardness and slicking him with lard. His stomach was trembling, terrified, eyes widening as Loki produced a piece of string from his pocket.

"What's that for?"

"Well... Can't have you going soft before it's finished, can we?"

He tied the string tightly around the base of Thor's cock and sat back, his eyes glowing with hunger.

"Keep still as best you can."

It was torture. Loki's hands moved rapidly around his length, pressing against all his veins, tutting when he twitched, but he couldn't help it, the whole sensation was just too strange. The plaster was cloying and peculiar, the water running down to puddle beneath him in a way he strangely liked.

His nails dug into the table, leaving little gouges in the wood as Loki reached the head, lovingly smoothing it over.

And then he started again from the bottom.

"Good boy," he murmured. "You're doing so well, keeping so still."

"Can I...?"

"Don't worry. I know what you need."

Thor could barely think of anything expect the cooling and hardening around his cock, and the almost painful sensation of being kept stiff.

He grasped the glass gratefully when Loki approached with it, swallowing the contents with two deep gulps.

It seemed an age before Loki deemed the cast finished and eased it from him, ripping off the string and taking another handful of lard to stroke him rapidly to a climax that left him panting.

And then he gazed into his face, eyes bright and lips parted, leaning in...

Thor turned his face away.

"Still no?" Loki asked. "We have done so much and here you draw the line?"

"Kissing is for lovers," Thor insisted. "And you and I, we... We are not that."

He was almost offended that Loki did not protest the point, merely sighing quietly and moving back.

"Another drink?" he asked, pouring it before Thor could answer.

Thor barely listened to him saying he had business to complete that afternoon, already resigned to spending it in his room, confused and frustrated and uncertain of everything.


	18. Chapter 18

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Possibly a warning here for period-typical racist ideas.

A day later and Loki sighed gently to himself, stirring his porcelain mix. The kiln was heating the cellar to an almost unbearable temperature despite the outer doors being open to let the smoke out and fresh air in.

He couldn't help but congratulate himself sometimes on this set-up. A place to make his masks away from the rest of the house, and any lingering chemical or rotting smell from the bodies he stored from time to time was quickly overpowered by the scent of burning and clay.

He'd never tried to make anything other than masks. Certainly nothing as solid as the replica of Thor's shaft. It was going to require more attention than his usual products.

He was almost slapdash while pouring the white liquid into Ward's mould, but for his own personal project...

Well, for a start, he was using a glaze for the first time in years. He wanting this object to be smooth and beautiful. Flawless. And not at all rough. He would have to watch it carefully, ensure it did not crack or shatter. He severely doubted Thor would allow a second mould to be made.

Which meant he had time to go over in his mind what he had learned about the honourable Mr Pietro Maximoff.

Information had not been easy to come by. If he was able to read Cyrillic, he might have had more luck, as surely the international press from the right part of the world would have been the most useful port of call. A pity it wasn't written in Latin, really.

But there were fleeting glimpses of him, when he'd dug deep enough through the more recent articles that concerned themselves with the headache-inducing and constantly shifting states that Loki couldn't help thinking of as "over there."

For a start, claiming nobility seemed to be something of a stretch. It was more of a joke, he thought, than serious. Pietro and his sister seemed to be the children of a revolution of some sort, family dead but now paving their own path as politicians and believers in science.

At least, believers in some science. Reports were quite vague, but the violence in their country seemed to have been based on various ideas floating around Europe to do with indigenous peoples and differences between ethnic groups, an undercurrent of tension that had exploded into unrest. An undeniable fact, as far as most were concerned. But Pietro Maximoff held a different view.

It seemed that he blamed the French Revolution. Not the uprising itself, nor the Terreur, but the after-aftermath. The ideas that were beginning to emerge about the origins and skills of different races, which he claimed were merely tools to keep the status quo of inequality in place.

It stood to reason that Europeans were superior, most would say. After all, they had subjugated most other people on the Earth. However, the argument was then expanded to say that therefore the most pure of Europeans were themselves superior to their fellows and right to rule. Of course, these were the aristocrats and the nobility, bred to lead, as the argument went.

Pietro Maximoff and his sister seemed determined to prove that such things were false. That this superiority was a lie, used to curtail the common man by exploiting his own prejudices against other races. "You are superior to him by birth. I am superior to you by birth. If you accept one, you must accept the other."

It was certainly an interesting set of ideas that Loki would not at all mind discussing. He knew that he was considered a blip after all. A nobleman on bus mother's side with all the right breeding on the other and yet a sodomite also. His learned friends could not understand how such a thing could happen.

If this Maximoff was correct, then almost everything they knew of mankind could be called into question. It was a thrilling thought however one looked at it.

Apparently unsafe in their own country due to their radical ideas, the Maximoffs planned to settle in Britain. Loki allowed himself a hollow laugh at the fact that they believed their thoughts would be any more welcome. The paper did not give a duration for the househunting trip, but no doubt Mr Maximoff had simply moved on from Edinburgh to investigate elsewhere. 

Cambridge, perhaps. Surely not London. Durham, possibly. And no doubt he'd be back to visit soon and Loki might meet and discuss the possibilities of his ideas with him.

Pierce had been mistaken. The body had been a different man. It didn't make sense otherwise.

Ward's mask came out perfectly, as they all did. He'd be very happy with it, no doubt.

Loki closed the kiln up completely to smother the flames before attempting to open the other mould, almost praying that it would have worked.

The overheated plaster flaked off easily, revealing his masterpiece bit by bit. He laughed to himself. It was still warm, almost realistic if it were not for the beautiful deep crimson he had glazed it with.

Smooth as glass, the veins and head lovingly replicated right down to the slit at the top. It was perfect. Utterly perfect.

Of course, he would need to clean it carefully to remove any last traces of plaster before use and caution was needed. It ought to be safe, impermeable and seamless, but dropping it onto the kitchen floor would no doubt shatter it.

He bit his lip, thinking of everything he could do with it. Satisfy himself in the middle of the night. Forbid Thor to touch him and drive him wild by making him watch. Letting Thor feel his own cock move within him. Let him share Loki with himself...

Ooh, yes. This had been an excellent idea.


	19. Chapter 19

Thor was carrying the scrapings from the fireplaces out into the yard when he heard the bell ring. It was a heavy brass mechanism and he didn't think he'd ever heard it sound before. They very rarely had deliveries. Loki collected all his plaster and porcelain himself and the housekeeper seemed to have an account for food which Loki paid at the end of each month.

She was the one who went to investigate and then came along to stand in the doorway to speak to him.

"Mr Odinson," she called, even though he'd asked her repeatedly to call him Thor.

But no, she would not. He was Mr Odinson and she was Miss Carter as was proper and correct. Everything was proper and correct around her, even things which blatantly weren't. In fact, he sometimes thought she somehow knew of his relationship with Loki, just based on little comments she made sometimes. Not that she'd ever mention something as shocking as that directly, of course.

"What is it?"

"Two young ladies here to see Mr Laufeyson. I told them he wasn't here, but they insisted on waiting. Run and fetch him, if you would."

Thor stepped past her to the waterbutt splashing a little on his hands to keep the dust off.

"Did he say where he was going?"

"Oh, he'll be up at the infirmary. He goes to the operations most days."

Thor looked up at her uncertainly.

"Can't you go?" he asked. "You know where it is after all."

"And leave you alone in the house with two unchaperoned young women?"

He sighed, but she was right. It wouldn't be acceptable. He found his coat and went out the back way, heading up towards where the hospital was.

Or, at least, where he thought it was.

He realised he was lost fairly quickly and wondered whether to go back home and ask for directions there since no-one on the street seemed willing to stop. But his pride wouldn't allow it, so he found his way to the only person he knew in this part of town.

Barton opened the door a crack with his trademark suspicion, glancing around when he didn't see the barrow or Loki.

"What do you want?"

"The infirmary. Or wherever the operations happen. I need to fetch Lo... Mr Laufeyson, I need to fetch him urgently."

A sigh and he was let in, Barton washing something from his hands that Thor didn't want to think about and finding a scrap of paper and a pencil.

"Right," he said and began listing directions and drawing arrows and lines to represent streets. Thor didn't bother saying that he could read perfectly well.

"Thank you," he said, turning away to leave.

"He didn't tell you, did he? Didn't say what he needed moved when he first employed you?"

Thor stopped in the doorway.

"No. He found me in a pub and offered payment. I didn't ask questions. But I know now."

"And how do you feel about it?"

A pause.

"I don't know," he said honestly. "He likes to make me question everything I know about myself and so I don't know what I believe anymore."

"Mm. Yeah, I can see how he'd do that. Don't feel bad though. Whatever his failings, he provides a necessary service."

Thor shrugged.

"Can I ask though?" he said. "The first body I carried. Who was it?"

"Oh, we don't know the names."

"No, I mean... What kind of person?"

"Erm... Before the young man, let's see... Oh. No, I remember. It was a woman. Older, fair hair with grey."

Thor felt ice run down his spine.

"Thank you," he mumbled as he stepped out the door. "Just curious."


	20. Chapter 20

Loki was watching the operation with some interest when he became aware of a little commotion behind him. It was the removal of a growth in a man's leg and he was screaming and struggling against the belts holding him down. They'd clamped some wood between his teeth to stop him biting his tongue off, but it wasn't exactly helping and the doctor was being rather long about it. The poor man would bleed to death at this rate.

A hand tapped him on the shoulder and he found his attention being directed to the back of the room where Thor was standing, looking pale. No doubt the surgery was distressing him.

Trying not to draw too many dark looks to himself, Loki gathered his things and sidled out of his row, letting Thor lead him outside, inhaling deeply away from the blood.

"What is it?" Loki asked. "What's the matter?"

Thor scowled at him and mumbled his response. Grumpy, grumpy... Someone needed a little tension relieved by the looks of him.

"Miss Carter sent me. There are two young women come to see you and they won't take no for an answer."

Loki frowned. He didn't know many women. Most of the ones he did socialise with on occasion were the bored middle-aged wives of boring middle-aged men, and none of them would come visit him unannounced.

"What do they look like?" he asked.

Thor shrugged. He was even more frustrating than normal today.

"No idea. I didn't see them."

Of course he didn't. That might have been helpful, but no matter. He'd find out soon enough.

"What's the matter with you?" Loki asked as they set off walking. "You look melancholy even by your standards."

For a flash, Thor did not look melancholy. He looked thunderously angry, as though about to call down the wrath of the heavens upon everyone who had ever wronged him.

"Nothing," he growled. Which was a blatant lie, but Loki wasn't in the mood for a fight.

They hurried back, though Loki slowed to a leisurely stroll when they grew close in case someone was watching out of the window. They had interrupted his day, after all. Let them await his arrival patiently.

He dispatched Thor to the kitchen to prepare some tea while he stepped out of his coat and into the parlour.

The two young women stood as he entered, a little formal courtesy that he hadn't really used since adolescence. Still, it boded well.

On the left was a willowy and proud-looking one, thick dark hair plaited and pinned at the back of her head. Her eyes looked a little puffy, as though she was exhausted or had been crying for hours.

He noted the dark colour of her dress. Not black, so presumably she was not in full mourning, but all the same...

Her companion was shorter, a shock of copper hair upon her head in tight curls that looked more natural than most he'd seen. She was also dressed in a extremely deep blue and he wondered if they might be cousins, mourning the same dead relative.

He bowed to them respectfully, wondering what on earth they might want with him.

"Mr Laufeyson?" the red-haired one asked.

"At your service. I am sorry for your wait. Please, sit down."

She nodded once and they took the couch, leaving him a choice of the two armchairs.

"My name is Miss Romanov and this is my employer, the honourable Miss Wanda Maximoff. Forgive her, but he speaks very little English and so I will translate for her. We are here looking for information connected to the disappearance of her brother, Mr Pietro Maximoff."

Not a flicker of emotion passed his face. He was proud of that.

"I see. Well, I confess I did not meet the gentleman when he was here, though I know of him by repute and heard about his visit. You say he's missing?"

"We have not heard from him in some weeks."

He smiled at her. Was that all?

"Well, is it not possible that his messages have simply not arrived? Postal delays are possible. A stagecoach held back can wreak havoc very easily."

"He left his lodging house and never returned. His luggage was left unclaimed, his bed unmade. He is missing. But thank you for explaining potential issues faced by the post service."

Oh, he was going to have to watch this one. She was sharp.

"I did not meet him," he repeated. "So I'm not sure how much help I can be, I'm afraid."

"You may have not known that you met him. He is not a loud man if he does not need to be. You might not have been formally introduced."

"Ladies, I am quite certain that I did not."

They looked at him doubtfully.

"Here, we have a likeness. Please take a look. You may recognise him all the same."

She handed him a miniature portrait, for all the good it would do.

He was just about to tell them as much when Thor entered the room and promptly dropped the tea tray.


	21. Chapter 21

He'd just glanced over Loki's shoulder to see what he was looking at and suddenly there was a clatter as the tray hit the floor, tea flooding onto the rug from the upset pot and at least one of the cups smashing.

It was lucky that he wasn't carrying what Miss Carter referred to as the 'good' china.

"Oh," Loki said. "I must apologise for him. He's not been very well of late. Dizzy fits, you know. Getting better though."

Thor glanced up from retrieving broken pieces to find two handsome young women looking at him with concern. His cheeks burned.

"We will not stay for tea," one of them said. "Though thank you. We have a few more gentlemen to visit today."

Loki handed over the miniature that had shocked him so. He knew the face. The dead man.

"Which lodging house was he at?" Loki asked, so cool and calm. How was he so composed?

"I believe it was called Fotheringhay."

Loki bid them a polite farewell, finding out where to reach them if he heard anything, and returned to the parlour to stand over Thor's crouching form.

"Thank you for the distraction," he said. "We could not have planned that better."

Thor's hands were shaking, not even minding the burning heat of the pot under his fingers as he set it right way up.

"That man..." he croaked.

"I know. They think him missing. His sister and a lady's maid of some kind."

"He's dead. We know he is. Why did you not tell them?"

Loki fell into one of the armchairs.

"Of course, Thor, why didn't I think of that? A visiting foreign gentleman with controversial views flees his own country in fear of his life and stops here, whereupon he dies suddenly and without apparent witnesses, but, of course, I ought to report having stolen his corpse before burial and sold it for medical teaching purposes."

"Not the last part, but... That poor woman. Her brother is dead. She deserves to know."

"Oh, she knows already. Suspects certainly. The question here is how he ended up nameless and in Greyfriars."

Thor frowned.

"Someone must have put him there," he said softly. "Someone took him there and left him and didn't say who he was."

"Which means someone was hoping that he'd just be put in the paupers' graves along with the rest of the city's unknowns. They were hoping that he would conveniently disappear and that no-one would ever find out what they did to him."

"They killed him?"

Loki scoffed.

"Obviously. And now they're trying to pin it on me. On us. Why else would those women come here unless someone had told them to? Someone is trying to set us up."

Thor shuddered. His thoughts of confronting Loki about his lies had quite vanished in the shock of this revelation. This was dangerous and they would have to be careful.

"What are we going to do?" he asked.

Loki sprang to his feet.

"I am going to carry on as normally as possible so as not to arouse suspicion, but you are going to start investigating. Where did he go? Who did he meet? Who might have killed him?"

"But surely they'll have already asked..."

"They'll have asked the owner of the lodging house. I doubt they'll have thought to ask the maids or the footmen. And you're such a charming gentleman. Who wouldn't want to talk to you?"

Thor was still uneasy, shifting uncomfortably until Loki took his shoulders.

"It's justice, Thor. You want the young lady to know the truth? Then we need to find out who did it."

His hand strayed across to Thor's throat, squeezing lightly.

"And, of course, if we want to avoid the noose, it would be prudent to find out who is trying so hard to wrap it around our necks."

Thor swallowed hard against his grip and nodded.


	22. Chapter 22

Loki's first task was clearly to alter the mask beyond recognition. Someone would no doubt tell Miss Maximoff that he had it, that her brother had therefore been in the hospital morgue. Which he hadn't been anyway. Not as such.

Destroying the mask outright would carry an implication of guilt. No, he could not do that. He had to be more subtle than that. He would make it so it bore a passing resemblance to Pietro, enough to confuse someone who did not know him very well, but no more like him than that.

He softened a little wax by the fire and began building layers of it directly onto the ceramic to alter it. Heavier brows. More defined cheekbones. A stronger jaw. Minor changes, but enough.

Making a replacement mask, cast from the improved original, took him most of the next day, anxiously waiting for the plaster to dry so he could finish it. And, of course, Thor was out looking for clues, not here to distract him.

Oh, but he did have something that might help...

The phallus was heavy in his hand as he flopped onto his bed, the little bottle of oil with him. He laid it on his stomach to warm a little, admiring the contrast between the deep scarlet and his pale skin.

His fingers slipped into his body easily, though he was taking his time. The point of this was to occupy himself for a fair while, not to rush things.

No. He fully intended to enjoy this as much as he deserved to.

When he didn't have a partner and he wanted that sensation of being filled, Loki was rather used to his own fingers. Adept with them. He knew exactly where to aim, how much of a stretch he liked. But he'd never used anything else.

How nice to have a new experience.

It was still a little chilled when he got started, strange to feel going inside. The real Thor was so warm, hot even, and though the cold made him shiver, it was a pleasant feeling somehow.

Ooh, the stretch. There was no give, no yielding, just a firm, solid fullness. It shifted within him, the sheer weight of it making it press against his insides in unfamiliar ways.

Oh, this was wonderful.

How would it be to experience this always, to keep it inside as he went about his days, to somehow remain plugged with it? Squirming as he watched the operations, aching for relief in the library, those pompous fools in the Phrenology Society having their tedious discussions while blissfully unaware of what exquisite sensations he was feeling.

And moving it... Ooh, yes.

It was hard to get a grip on it, the glassy surface too slippery with oil, but that just made the motion unpredictable.

He ended up holding the end and rolling his hips, using his body to seek his pleasure. He imagined Thor above him, keeping still and making him work for it.

 _Mmm, Loki..._ he might say. _Oh, just like that. Keep going. Fuck yourself on me. Make yourself come._

He imagined that he had trained himself to do just that, that he could climax from penetration alone and that Thor would smile, his eyes so hungry.

_Good. My turn..._

He spilled over his own fingers and kept going, making his body twitch and convulse with sensitivity, making it almost hurt and thought of Thor moaning his name, leaning down to capture his lips to reward him for being so, so good...

The phallus slipped out of him with a squelch, his chest heaving.

He lay still for several minutes, letting his muscles cool, before deciding it was about time he got cleaned up and made the new mask for Mr Maximoff.

By the time he was done not even his sister would be able to recognise him.

He smashed the original to smithereens once its replacement was made, ground it to dust and mixed it with the ashes from the kiln. No trace. No evidence.

Whoever was trying to pin this on him had another thing coming.


	23. Chapter 23

Thor was not having much luck.

He was trying his best not to seem suspicious, and had decided after much thought that the best place to start would be the nearest pub. People tended to be friendly or at least talkative in such places. But no one he spoke to could think of a foreigner who visited in the past month or so.

Perhaps Mr Maximoff did not drink. From what he'd gleaned, he had been a religious man. Such people were often temperate, if not teetotal.

The lodging house offered few other clues. He had paid in advance, he had left the room tidy and he had been very polite. That was all the young woman cleaning the steps outside seemed able to tell him, though she was a maid of all work and had therefore seen him a few times. Very polite. Very busy too, always out and about looking at houses.

Hmm... That's right. He had been seeking a residence here. But, of course, Thor knew nothing of such things or how they were done. He wouldn't know where to begin following that train of thought.

Part of him didn't want to believe Loki's conclusion was correct. Perhaps his death had been an accident of some kind. But then again, why leave him without a name in a strange kirkyard? Why not inform his family of the tragedy? Perhaps this was merely wishful thinking on his part, wary of what they were getting into.

But he was determined not to return empty-handed and so went to the only person he knew had seen Maximoff.

Alas, only his corpse.

The sandy-haired man at the graveyard opened the door when he knocked but became suspicious immediately. There was a young boy with him this day, a lad of fourteen or fifteen who looked on in idle interest.

"This isn't the normal collection day."

"No," Thor agreed. "It's about the last one. Do you know anything about... it?"

He was catching on fast, he felt.

"Nothing at all. Don't know much about any of them."

"Do you remember who brought it in?"

A frown as the man thought this over.

"Well, they certainly weren't family. That's for sure. Didn't even know his name. One of them was... odd. Short little bugger. Very shifty. And the other... Well, taller than his friend. Very stern face, a real stone look about him."

"And were they gentlemen or...?"

"Oh, certainly. Very well-spoken. Nice, clean talk. You know, like how your boss speaks. Why, what's this about?"

Could he lie? Ought he lie? Should he tell his man that he might be in danger, implicated as some kind of accomplice?

"There is a man missing who bears a passing resemblance. I'm just confirming that they are different. And I'm sure of it now."

The man seemed a little disturbed as Thor thanked him for the information and gave the boy the only penny he had with him for good measure. With any luck it would buy their discretion.

Loki seemed thoroughly unimpressed with what he had found out.

"Two gentlemen, one tall and the other short and suspicious-looking? Well, you've narrowed it down to around 80% of my acquaintances. Well done."

Thor pouted.

"It was not easy," he protested. "I asked at the Fotheringay and found out precious little. Only that he was very polite and occupied."

Loki chewed on his lip a little nervously.

"Very well," he said. "Tomorrow we will try the salons du thé in the area. An intelligent young man would have sought out intellectual discussion and no doubt would have signed in. We may be able to pinpoint his movements at least a little or talk to someone who met him, find out who he was with."

Thor was only distantly aware of tea salons. He recalled that his mother had mentioned them once or twice as a favourite location of the lady of the house she served in.

"And Thor? Take a bath before bed."

He blinked.

"Do I smell?"

"Not badly, but a little over musky for where we'll be going. The ladies will be more inclined to smile at you and not be suspicious if you do not smell of hard work and heat."

He was blushing, he could feel it. Of course, he did not wash as often as Loki did, but then again who did? The metal tub took an age to fill with pot after pot from the range. It was too much effort and a little time spent at the ablution bowl normally sufficed for basic cleanliness.

"Although," Loki said, smiling at him. "Perhaps it would be a shame to get clean without getting properly dirty first..."

He almost felt his flush ease as his blood was suddenly needed elsewhere.


	24. Chapter 24

Of course salons du thé had rather fallen out of vogue in recent years. Napoleon's final defeat was not even a decade ago after all and before then the Terreur and barbarity of the revolution had created a prejudice against all French things.

Still, there was demand and necessity for a set area for ideas to be expressed and shared in a civilised environment and so several were still in business.

Loki tried not to limp as they ascended the stairs. Thor had been rather rough with him the previous evening, as though punishing him for something. He had laid slaps across his rump hard enough to make him scream, growled into his ear with every deep thrust that had seemed hard enough that surely either Loki or the table was sure to break. He was raw this morning in a way that he was sure would be less unpleasant just as soon as he could sit down somewhere soft. He'd even sent Thor for a cab, hoping to avoid a long walk, but the jostling motion of the cobbles had nearly brought tears to his eyes.

However, Thor was looking very handsome indeed. He was wearing some old clothes of Loki's father who had been broader and therefore more Thor's size towards the end of his life, a subtle cravat and had his hair tied back with a ribbon. It made him look softer somehow. Gentler. And highly respectable too. They might have been cousins standing next to each other, or brothers.

The young hostess smiled at them as they approached to sign in - scrawled names, of course, to hide their identities a little. No doubt she was glad to have some apparently respectable younger gentlemen here. From what Loki recalled of his infrequent visits, as was often the case in places where women liked to gather and socialise, the lechers were not far behind.

As long as they behaved themselves, he and Thor would add a strong sense of propriety and security. And Loki intended for them to behave very well indeed.

They'd made a plan last night while awkwardly sharing the tin bath, Loki carefully lathering Thor's hair until it shone like sunlight and felt like silk. Still, there was no harm in retracing their steps.

"Wait for my signal," Loki murmured. "You know what you're doing?"

"Of course. I am a visitor to the city and wondering if a friend of mine stopped by in the last few months and if so, who he was with. I hope to make more new friends through his connections."

"She'll recall him, I guarantee it. Such visitors do not go unnoticed, no matter what his sister says of his quietness."

They strode into the upper room, tiny china cups of tea being handed to them as they entered and surveyed the gathering.

As usual, the lady of the salon was central, with a small cloud of maids and favourites about her, occupying a low chaise. There were a few couches and cushions around the room and Loki headed straight for one of the softer-looking ones, grateful to sink into it.

There were a few admiring glances coming his way, more when Thor joined him. The only other males in the room this day were a few older men - perhaps the fathers of some of the young ladies - playing cards in the corner, a couple of bored serving boys and a rounded young man who seemed to be napping in one of the over-stuffed armchairs.

Loki smiled politely, trying to get a grip on the current conversation. Something about architecture in the Far East, he thought. There was certainly a lot of mentions of bamboo around the place. He was content to let it wash over him, to appear interested in the speaker but not in speaking. He wanted his presence to become unremarkable.

"That's a damned stupid way to build," Thor said next to him, apparently blissfully unaware of the shocked looks his language produced. "All the logs in a line, not cut into planks? Inefficient, that's what it is."

"Please, ladies, excuse my friend," Loki said hurriedly. "He is only recently arrived from a long sea voyage and not yet reaccustomed to civilised society. Please accept our apologies."

It seemed someone as handsome as Thor was allowed a little swearing. They certainly got back to their discussion soon enough, pointing out that the trunks were in fact hollow.

Beside him, Thor downed his tea, no doubt wishing that it was something stronger. His thumb twitched a little and Loki held back a sigh. Thor did so hate to look ignorant, no doubt especially in this persona as the gentleman he might have been but for a quirk of birth.

Well, no time like the present, then.

Loki coughed lightly, subtly, and Thor stood to excuse himself, gathering a few empty cups to return to the servant by the door. A tiny gesture, but considerate.

They'd just have to hope that the young woman downstairs liked him enough to show him the ledger.


	25. Chapter 25

Thor took a moment to compose himself in the corridor. He'd become so used to Loki's sole presence that he had forgotten what it was like to be in mixed society. Miss Carter hardly counted; for all her propriety, he suspected she was not exactly easy to disgust, not really.

But those ladies upstairs had been visibly shocked by his language, mild though it was. He needed to be more aware of himself. The kind of words Loki tolerated - and maybe even enjoyed in his fantasy of having Thor as a sort of tamed ruffian - were not suitable here.

And thinking of Loki, he was yet to find an appropriate time to confront him over his lies. 

It was beginning to haunt him. In his dreams, Thor returned again and again to the graveyard, and dug into the earth with his bare hands. He never found his mother. But he found other people.

Sometimes he found bare bones only, hundreds of skeletons, sometimes Pietro Maximoff, sometimes his own corpse lying dead. Last night, he had found Loki and the terrible ruined body sat up and reached for him, the freezing, rotting flesh nuzzling against him and laughing in a death rattle. He'd woken with a start in a cold sweat, glad that he was alone, having returned to his own chamber after his bath.

The memory of it made him shiver. Just a dream, he told himself. Nothing more than that.

His feet carried him downstairs once more towards the entrance, rehearsing in his head what he was going to say. He was a visitor seeking a mutual friend. It was perfectly normal and, above all, not remotely suspicious.

"Good afternoon, sir," the girl said before he could open his mouth. "Is there something the matter?"

Loki's instructions echoed in his mind. Be charming. Smile. Flirt if that will get you what you want, but do not presume that such actions are not offensive. Be respectful.

He had felt like a child again, having his hair scrubbed and being lectured on manners.

"Nothing wrong," he said brightly, his voice like a stranger's. "But I heard from one of the ladies upstairs that a friend of mine visited recently. I was hoping to find out who with, that I might pay his companion a call, find a new connection."

He smiled to cover his nerves as she nodded.

"I'll need a name and a date," she said.

"Oh, I am not sure of the exact date. It will have been two months ago and the name is Pietro Maximoff."

She flipped back several pages, various handwritten names flashing by.

"A young man?" she asked.

"Indeed. From East of here, but not the Orient. Bearded."

Her face broke into a wide smile.

"Ah, yes, I remember. Very polite. His sister visited us a few days ago with the very same question. How nice that you are in town at the same time! Here, this was the day he visited."

She pushed the ledger across the desk towards him, pointing.

There were two names in the same neat script written there.

One was Pietro Maximoff.

The other was Loki Laufeyson.


	26. Chapter 26

Loki had expected Thor to return relatively promptly, and grew concerned when he didn't. To prevent suspicion, he allowed around a quarter of an hour to elapse before excusing himself.

No sign of Thor in the foyer.

"My, er... companion?" he asked the hostess. "Where did he go?"

"He didn't say exactly. I gave him the information he wanted and he left without another word. Perhaps he was not feeling well?"

Loki agreed that she was probably right and almost ran out into the street to find a cab. Thor had no money on him. He'd need to go home for that. With any luck, he could outstrip him and be back before him.

There was no sign of Thor on the road home either, though he might have taken another route. And he was not in the house when Loki arrived, rushing through to lock the bottles in the cellar. That would no doubt be his first port of call and could be useful leverage for Loki to find out what on earth was going on.

What could have disturbed him so at the salon? What information did he now have? Or was it something else? He had been acting strangely since the day Miss Maximoff had visited but had resisted all attempts to make him talk...

The door banged open and Loki almost trembled with fear, though he wasn't sure why. Thor had never actually hurt him, or at least, never without him wanting to be hurt a little.

He was surprised when Thor did not appear in the kitchen though. His heavy footsteps were headed upstairs. Maybe the young woman was right, maybe he had just been taken ill.

As a precaution, Loki locked the doors before going to investigate further.

He found Thor shirtless in his room, the ribbon and cravat that had suited him so well abandoned on the floor as he reached for his usual rough clothing.

Loki leant against the doorframe, trying to appear nonchalant and calm the hammering of his heart.

"You didn't wait for me," he said quietly, watching as Thor froze and turned to face him.

It was like staring down a bear. Thor's strength seemed to be a physical presence, his arms bulging as he clenched and unclenched his fingers.

"I'm leaving," he said simply.

That hadn't been what Loki expected at all.

"Why?" he demanded.

"Because you are a liar and I want nothing more to do with you."

Well, he wasn't wrong, but this seemed an odd moment to bring it up.

"Who was with Maximoff?" he asked. "You can at least tell me that."

Thor began to laugh, a horrible, uncontrolled sound, closer to sobbing than mirth.

"My God," he said. "You really...? It was you, Loki. You don't have to pretend."

Loki reflexively took a step back.

"What are you talking about?"

Thor sighed, pulling his old worn-out trousers on.

"Get out of my way. I'm leaving."

Loki blocked the door with his body, for all the good it would do.

"No," he said. "You're not. You're going to tell me what you meant by that."

Another hollow laugh and Thor approached, looking right into his face, eyes burning with anger.

"You went to the salon with Pietro Maximoff and your name was in the book and you took his body to protect whoever killed him."

Loki swallowed hard, willing himself not to blink.

"Someone else wrote my name there," he said as Thor scoffed. "They're trying to put the blame onto me. I never met him, Thor. Why would I send you down to read it if I already knew? It doesn't make any sense. You must believe me."

"Believe you?! Believe your lies and double bluffs after what you've done?"

Loki opened his mouth to snap back at him, but Thor's hand was suddenly around his throat and for a moment, he genuinely feared his neck was about to be broken in two.

"You sold my mother," Thor growled.

In his panic, Loki kneed him hard in the crotch.


	27. Chapter 27

Pain exploded behind Thor's eyes like a shower of sparks, making him howl and curl in on himself. He heard the door slam and then Loki was on his back, not trying to hurt, but to subdue, to pin him down.

Unfortunately for Loki, Thor was a lot stronger than him.

He flung himself backwards, hearing Loki grunt as he hit the floor and straddled him immediately.

"I didn't..." Loki croaked.

"You did!" Thor almost screamed. "I spoke to Barton, I asked and he told me..."

His hands found their way to Loki's throat again.

"Admit it. Admit that you did it."

He expected more arguing, more denial, more _lies_ , but Loki went limp, his eyes dull and his breathing shallow.

"Admit it!"

His grip tightened a little and Loki gasped for air.

"Alright," he stammered. "Alright. I chose an older woman without a scratch on her. And she was fair and tall and just the kind of woman who might have have been your mother. I admit it."

He'd known, but it still hurt. Thor found himself sobbing.

"Her mask? Where is her mask, why couldn't I find it?"

Loki shook his head.

"I didn't have time to make one before..."

"Before? Before what?"

Loki carefully peeled his grasp open, revealing a set of marks on his neck that would no doubt bruise, before responding.

"The lecture... It was on facial and cranial disorders. So they..."

He drew one elegant finger across both his own cheeks in a slicing motion.

Thor felt sick, moving back from Loki lest he vomit. His mother's face. The muscles and sinews with which she had granted him the warmest smiles and indulgent frowns, that had shaped her laughter and her speech, all cut up like mutton...

He hadn't realised he was weeping until he was on the floor, a flood of emotion that he had held back and tried to drown in whisky pouring out of him all at once, and Loki by his side trying to soothe him.

He hated Loki with every fibre of his being and yet the gentle touch of his hand on his head was comforting. And then Loki folded himself around Thor's back, holding him tight until at last his body had ceased convulsing and his cries became less frequent. Even then, he did not let go, laying kisses into his hair that Thor pretended not to feel.

"Where is she now?"

A moment's pause.

"There is a hospital cemetery," Loki murmured quietly. "She will have been very carefully and properly buried there."

He tried to take comfort from that, and yet he could not. But neither had he taken comfort from thinking she was lying at rest up in Greyfriars. Nothing brought him comfort, not anymore. She was dead and gone and he could do nothing about it. This knowledge was just one more sorrow, one more ache for his bleeding heart.

"I'm sorry," Loki said.

Thor rolled over very carefully, his face blotchy and his nose stuffed.

"No, you're not."

At least Loki had the decency not to lie about that. He just lay there on the floor, not meeting Thor's gaze.

"Don't leave," he said eventually. "It won't be safe for you out there. Someone is targeting me and they may go after you as well. We should stick together."

Thor rolled onto his back and stared at the ceiling, his eyes tracing a crack in the plasterboard.

"It wasn't you at the salon?"

"I swear it on my life. Someone has staged this."

A few more moments of quiet while Thor considered his actions. He was Loki's servant, known to be so, for outsiders had seen him. If Loki was accused, surely Thor would be too.

And though he didn't like the thought, he wondered, if push came to shove, whether Loki would pin the blame on him to save himself.

Of course, if they hanged, as convicted and condemned criminals, it would be their bodies on the surgeon's slab. How just that would be.

Sitting up took some effort, but he managed it.

"I would like to sleep, I think. Alone. And tomorrow I would like to pay my respects to my mother."

Loki just nodded, visibly relieved that he wasn't leaving.

He had been dozing for only a few minutes when a loud clink woke him.

"Ssh..." Loki said. "I just thought you might want..."

Thor reached for the bottle on the nightstand with both hands and barely registered Loki leaving the room.


	28. Chapter 28

Loki felt that he did not understand Thor and that was worrying.

Or rather, he understood much about Thor that was very surface-level. He understood that Thor was melancholic but had a vague sense of self preservation, even if it was just some kind of muscle-memory drive to live. He understood that Thor had needs and desires. That he liked to discuss things but was out of practice when it came to speaking. That his wants sometimes disgusted him, even as he lacked the self-control and discipline to resist them.

But he did not understand his depth of feeling, especially on this subject.

Surely there was no point in weeping for a corpse. A person, yes, perhaps, but a mere body? Especially when it was going to help people - other men and women, other mothers even might be saved by the knowledge imparted by the lectures. He could not understand. It wasn't like she was using her face anymore, was it? No, she was very much done with it.

Still, if Thor wanted to pay his respects at the common grave of the hospital cemetery, there was no harm in that.

And then surely they could get back to the far more pressing matter of finding out who had murdered Pietro Maximoff and why.

He tried make breakfast, hoping to demonstrate that he did truly feel some remorse since Thor was distressed, though Miss Carter took one look at what he was doing and took over, relegating him to preparing tea.

"He's angry with you, then?" she asked.

Loki was a little taken aback. It was not their habit to speak much beyond basic greetings.

"It doesn't matter," he said.

He could see in her face that she knew that it did matter, though she did not press the matter further. He wondered just how much she knew sometimes. She had keys to the cellar after all, she might have been curious and taken a look in the box while it rested there...

And if she had, she had not reported it, or confronted him about it. Maybe she didn't know after all.

"Will you be watching the operation today?" she asked.

"I doubt it."

"Oh, what a shame. I believe it's an amputation. You always enjoy those."

He forced out a laugh, unsure at what she was getting at. Yes, he was rather fascinated by them, who wouldn't be? The removal of something as fundamental as a limb and at least half the time, the patient survived? With more work, they could make it the vast majority of the time, even a sure thing. And then maybe they could move towards removal of diseased organs. Why not? After all, only a few years ago many of the diseases they could now cure would have been death sentences.

Maybe one day, there would be a world without scarlet fever or consumption or typhoid or measles. Maybe then, people like him would be treated as heroes instead of criminals, for looking to the future when the present was too squeamish.

"My niece is married to Dr Rogers, of course," Miss Carter was saying. "So I hear all about the goings on."

He hadn't been listening and frowned slightly.

"The American?"

"Indeed. But a very polite young man all the same."

He'd seen Rogers on a number of occasions. He had a slightly different lecturing style to most of the doctors, less showy, more practical. Loki remembered seeing one of his living patients die on the operating table and Rogers had openly wept. He wanted to save everyone and was frustrated when he could not.

"He's a good surgeon," Loki offered.

"Yes. Though I think it would do him good if Sharon better kept their business to herself. She gets terribly worried you see. About where the bodies come from."

She turned and looked at him, but he couldn't read her expression. She knew. Fine, that was obvious. But what did she want?

He coughed slightly.

"You and I know the value of discretion, don't we, Miss Carter?"

"We do. And I fear that without copious amounts of it that this business is likely to end badly for all involved, even the innocent."

Ah... She was concerned for her niece. Yes, if it was revealed that almost all the doctors in this district had given lectures using stolen, paid for corpses, whether knowingly or not, they would have the mobs at their doors within minutes.

"I will be as careful as possible," he said softly. "And do my best to avoid any unpleasantness."

"And that's all I ask. Now, why don't you go and wake Mr Odinson? The food will be ready by the time you come down."

It really was a mess, Loki mused as he climbed the stairs. So many people were poised to have their reputations and careers destroyed if he made even the smallest misstep.

But, of course, he was facing down death. Surely that took precedence. If it came down to it, his priority was not dying if he could possibly avoid it and everyone else could hang for all he cared.

He pushed open the door to Thor's room silently and looked at him, frowning in his sleep, sheets all tangled halfway round his waist and still mostly dressed.

Poor Thor. He hadn't asked for any of this.

Alright. Maybe his lack of care did not extend to _everyone._ He really would rather keep his... friend? Associate? His... Thor safe and nearby if such a state could possibly be achieved.


	29. Chapter 29

Thor became aware that he was cold.

He realised that someone was rolling him over onto his back and easing his trousers off. Opening his eyes was an effort, so heavy and almost rough from the dried salt of last night's tears.

"Loki?"

"Ssh... It's alright."

"What're you doing?"

A hand on his cock, deftly stroking him to hardness.

"What do you think I'm doing? Just relax."

Thor watched as Loki leant down and took the head of his cock between his lips, sucking gently. Despite himself, Thor found himself sighing in pleasure. There was something about this, the way Loki would willingly worship his flesh, that made him feel somehow powerful.

Not that Loki would give him that feeling for long, even if he was being penitent.

For a start, he was teasing him relentlessly, never going beyond the very tip as Thor grew more and more desperate for things to progress.

And he laughed, the bastard, when Thor's hips jerked upwards.

"Eager?" he asked.

Thor only managed a growl that quickly became a moan as Loki leant down and down, impossibly deep. This surely couldn't be comfortable, but he was humming and moving sinuously, apparently enjoying himself.

Orgasm rushed over him, panting it out and watching as Loki swallowed before carefully dressing him once more.

"I was going to kiss you awake," he said casually. "But I suspected you would like this better."

Thor frowned a little.

"I'm still angry with you. You lied to me."

Loki sighed and traced a random pattern on Thor's thigh with one finger.

"Yes, but only out of kindness. What, was I meant to tell you from the start? I can't even really be sure that she was your mother. The evidence is circumstantial at best..."

Thor lunged for him and got a hand around his throat, their faces inches apart.

"You don't get to talk about her, ever."

Loki's nostrils flared in anger.

"Fine. After today, I will never speak of her again. And you can find comfort there, even though you've tried and failed to find it everywhere else. Admit it - even the drink isn't working so well any more. I bet the only time you're out of your own head is when we fuck. That's why it took you so long to think about leaving. You need me and you know it."

Thor was stunned, shocked by such an accusation, and yet...

And yet wasn't that true? He spent almost his entire existence plagued with guilt and regret. Things he'd done, things he hadn't and apart from helping him to sleep, the drink made him worse before he got better.

The only times he'd had a clear mind was indeed when his brain was overrun by focusing on tight, wet, warm, the taste of salt from the sweat on Loki's back, the sounds he could rip from him...

His grip loosened, but his scowl remained.

"Breakfast is prepared," Loki said flippantly. "And afterwards we shall go to the hospital cemetery, assuming you still want to."

"Of course I do. It's important. Though I wouldn't expect you to understand."

A heavy sigh.

"What do I need to do for forgiveness, Thor? You can't stay this angry forever."

On the contrary, Thor was quite sure that the amount of rage boiling in him would last a long, long time. For one thing, he was ultimately angry at himself, not Loki. Angry at how easily he had allowed himself to be led astray, how he had ended up in this mess.

"Look," and now Loki's voice was strained. "The truth is I need you to be at your best, whatever that may be, so that you can actually think and we'll have half a chance of not having a murder pinned on us."

"Pinned on you."

"Granted, but I could not have acted alone and there is only one accomplice I could name."

Part of Thor thought that was an empty threat. Another part knew it probably wasn't. He heaved himself out of bed, breakfast actually sounding like an excellent idea.

"What do you want from me, Thor? What do you need to stop being like this?"

He swayed gently in the doorway before glancing back.

"I don't know," he said honestly.


	30. Chapter 30

The tea was thoroughly overstewed and the porridge rubbery by the time they got to it, but Thor didn't seem to care. He always ate with the kind of ravenous speed of someone who's never really been sure where their next meal is coming from.

Loki barely managed a few mouthfuls.

He hadn't considered Thor's good opinion to be worth anything until suddenly it was no longer his. Not that Thor had ever particularly liked him it seemed, but at least there had been a sense of respect. Now he wasn't sure where they stood and that pained him in a way he couldn't explain. He'd never needed anyone to think well of him, and yet somehow that was all he wanted from Thor. Well... almost all.

If only he could be made to understand how important it all was. If only he could think of the future and not of the visceral present. If only he would think of the surgeons as something other than butchers and see how his work helped them save lives and know humanity...

There was no point in trying to talk to him yet. Let him have his grief. Surely he'd come back to his senses soon.

They walked up towards the hospital in silence. It had occurred to Loki that Thor might want to be alone, but then again, he might not be allowed in. As Loki recalled, there was a kind of watchman who kept guard over the graves. Unknowns, mostly, but still. It was all very properly done.

But when they arrived there was no sign of him and so Loki hung back, allowing Thor to walk in alone. Quite how he thought he'd know when he'd found his mother's resting place, Loki wasn't sure.

He didn't like seeing Thor weep. It didn't seem right somehow, that he had all that sorrow locked away and refused to let it out. Waiting for it to build up and explode like he did couldn't be healthy. And the sight of such a man crying... it awakened something akin to tenderness in Loki's frozen little heart.

He watched as Thor prowled around before stopping in an apparently random place, his head bowed. Praying? He didn't seem the type, but what else was there to do?

He didn't pay much mind to the sound of the gate swinging behind him until the newcomers drew level to him. Three of them. Two of whom he could not be less happy to see.

He bowed to Misses Maximoff and Romanov automatically, internally cursing the fact that they were here. No doubt they suspected that Pietro was buried here and were coming to investigate. He couldn't look more like he was returning to the scene of the crime if he tried.

It took him a moment to place the third figure, but seeing his limp sleeve... James Barnes, the assistant to Dr Rogers. He'd had his arm amputated with a case of septic infection and still aided in the operations as a kind of living case study.

If he was involved with the Maximoffs, then it was no wonder Miss Carter knew of it. He and Rogers were inseparable. Maybe that happens when you have to amputate a friend's limb and therefore end their by all accounts eminent career. Barnes tells Rogers, Rogers tells Mrs Rogers who tells her dear Aunt... er... Miss Carter who implies vaguely to Loki. Quite a run of whispers.

"Good morning," he offered, trying for neutral.

Barnes nodded to him.

"Enjoying the ambiance of the potter's field?"

"Well, my valet's mother is recently buried here, if that counts. Just paying our respects. Ladies, I trust you are well? Mr Barnes certainly knows how to have fun, does he not?"

To his surprise, Barnes laughed in all apparent good nature.

"Well, wouldn't you like to know?"

"Excuse us a moment," Miss Romanov said, leading her mistress up one of the grassy pathways.

Loki tried not to be too obviously nervous when they stopped to talk to Thor.


	31. Chapter 31

Mother? Was she really here? Did some corner of this field really hold her flesh and bones?

It didn't seem possible.

He'd wandered aimlessly before stopping and taking a moment to breathe. Both parents gone and he couldn't pinpoint the final resting place of either of them.

What did he even want to say? That he was sorry for... for everything, for being too stubborn and headstrong and angry? For not managing to do all that she'd dreamed he might? For everything he was and did now, trying to save his own skin and Loki's too?

He couldn't even find the words to begin.

Two sets of light footsteps approached without Thor really noticing, though he practically leapt backwards when he saw who it was.

"Please," the smaller one, Miss Romanov he thought, said. "Don't let us disturb you."

"You're not, I... I was just leaving."

"Please, wait. We would speak to you, in confidence. Please."

They had such sad, sad eyes. How could he say no when he knew their pain?

He took a deep breath and nodded, watching as they glanced at each other.

"Did you meet Mr Maximoff while he was here?"

"I did not. I'm sorry."

"Hmm. You're quite certain?"

"Positive. I don't meet many people. Most of my duties take place around the house and yard."

They nodded as he tried not to let his gaze flick to Loki. Why did he not come to his rescue? What if he gave them away?

"Are you loyal to Mr Laufeyson?"

"I... What?"

Miss Romanov smiled. It seemed wrong in such a sad place.

"Are you loyal to Mr Laufeyson?"

Thor hesitated.

"He is my employer," he said, haltingly. "And he has been kind to me. He brought me here to pay my respects to my mother when he didn't have to."

"Yes, we heard. Please accept our condolences."

He nodded in response, desperate to escape.

"It's funny," she said. "Pietro mentioned a Mr Laufeyson in his letters. He says he went to his home, stayed there one night after dinner. But he mentions no male servant."

Thor swallowed hard.

"Perhaps it is a different Mr Laufeyson," he tried. "I swear, he did not visit us. And if you think I am just being loyal, let me tell you that I swear on my mother's grave. Literally upon her grave."

"I believe you."

There was a brief whispered discussion between the two of them and Thor itched to run away, to run home and lock all the doors, to shut all of this out.

"We trust you. But your employer... He is a strange man."

"Yes," Thor said. "But that does not make him a murderer."

They blinked at him coolly, like owls considering a cornered shrew.

"Who said anything about murder?"

Thor felt his jaw drop, heard his own stammering and then Loki's voice behind him.

"You must be thinking it too," he said. "People do not simply vanish. Mr Odinson and I were merely discussing potential explanations a few evenings ago and... well, we are in a graveyard. His mind is undoubtedly a little more morbid than usual. And I'm afraid we simply must be going. Please, excuse us. I have some organising to do."

"The masks?" Romanov asked. "We have heard of these. They sound very interesting."

Loki smiled at her, but with razors in it.

"Then of course, you must visit and see them. Tomorrow evening?"

Thor only just managed not to shake his head in panic as they accepted the invitation. No, no, they needed to get as far from these women as possible!

He hissed as much to Loki once they were out of the cemetery, explaining hurriedly the things that had been said about Mr Maximoff's messages.

"Be calm, Thor. If they visit, they will surely find something which proves what they no doubt suspect - that I am not the person in the letters."

"Easy for you to say. I don't think I shall ever be calm again."

"Hmm... Perhaps I can try to help you with that."

He wasn't really in the mood, but come to think of it, a little stress relief sounded wonderful. Maybe it would be exactly what he needed.


	32. Chapter 32

Loki hadn't expected to have any reason to be cheerful this day, especially considering the current rather fraught situation at home, but he found his conversation with Barnes had buoyed him a little.

Apparently, he was a long-term family friend of Miss Romanov having been part of a British battalion during the Napoleon campaign where he had struck up a great friendship with her cousin in the equivalent Russian squadron before their change of sides and he had visited them in Russia during peace time as often as he was able.

It was quite obvious to Loki that he was hopelessly in love with her. If Miss Romanov had any influence on her employers at all, no doubt it was her desire to see him that had led them to Edinburgh over other cities. What a shame that tragedy had befallen them here.

The mere fact that Barnes was willing to speak with him openly gave him hope. After all, if they were very suspicious of him, surely he would be more closed, more stand-offish. No, they were enquiring in a number of places, he felt sure.

And being thus pleased with the morning, he was inclined to be a little playful.

Thor was visibly surprised when he leapt into his arms as soon as they were home, but caught him nonetheless.

"Feeling better now? You seem less tense."

"Slightly," Thor said. "Or rather differently stressed, I suppose. Either way, I don't particularly want to think right now."

"Mmm, differently is a nice word. Let's stick with differently."

With that, he began placing kisses over Thor's throat, not trying to move round to his lips since that was inexplicably forbidden (therefore making Loki want it all the more) but focusing on places he suspected might be sensitive. The soft flesh just beneath his ears, the hollow of his collarbone, the swelling of his throat.

He barely noticed that they'd ascended the stairs until Thor was throwing him onto his bed, the poor old mattress creaking as he bounced.

"Differently?" Thor asked. "How do you mean?"

Loki arched his back shamelessly, tipping his head back to stretch his neck before rolling his gaze to Thor once more.

"Aren't you tired of having the same meal served to you the exact same way every time?"

Thor laughed awkwardly.

"I grew up on herring and bread with the occasional meat pie. I'm not exactly used to choice."

Loki bit his lip and batted his eyes a little, using every trick in the book to get his way.

"Then how do you know you won't like a little variety?"

Thor sighed at him and shrugged. He really was keen to forget himself if he was going to allow a change in their routine, but Loki made a mental note to tread carefully all the same.

"I'm wearing too many clothes," he announced, tilting his hips up to start shimmying out of his trousers.

He hummed in approval as Thor tugged off his own shirt and tossed it aside, running his hands over his nipples before following suit, continuing until they were both completely stripped and Thor stood at the foot of the bed as though awaiting further instructions, his cock already thickening slightly with interest.

"You're dreadfully handsome, Thor," Loki said, trying to make him blush. "Sometimes I think I could just look at you for hours."

"Looking isn't enough for me. Stop teasing and tell me what you want."

"Bossy," he chided before considering the possibilities. "Though come to think of it, maybe that's exactly what I want."

"You want me to be bossy?"

"Mmm. Tell me what to do for a change. But one caveat - I want to look at your face for once. Against the wall doesn't count, I want it properly this time. But otherwise... My will, your command, etc."

There was a twitch in Thor's mouth, like he was trying to hold back a smile.

"Come closer," he tried. "Crawling?"

Ooh, _yes,_ this was exactly right. Loki pushed himself onto his hands and knees and swayed his way down the bed, eyes wide and fixed to Thor's face.

"Make... Make me hard."

"How?"

A shuddering breath.

"Kiss it. Kiss my cock."

Curious at what would happen, Loki leant forward and placed the most gentle and sweet kiss against the head, looking up at Thor's face afterwards as though for approval.

"Do it properly," he said, voice tight. "Open your mouth."

Starting at one side and moving from tip to base, Loki laved kisses all over the rapidly stiffening length, gasping when Thor gripped his chin firmly.

"Open up. Let me in."

He kept his eyes wide open as he let Thor thrust inside, keeping his muscles carefully lax and resisting the urge to laugh when Thor frowned in confusion for a second before catching on.

"Suck it, come on. You're so good at it, do it."

Loki hummed his approval at the praise. Yes, this was what he wanted, he needed to be instructed and rewarded, he needed Thor to tell him how much his efforts were appreciated.

He whined a little when Thor ordered him to stop though.

"I'll give it to you again soon enough," Thor said. "But I intend to enjoy variety, as you suggested. So get your oil and open that other hole of yours."

Loki thought he might burst with excitement, going too fast and hearing Thor tut at him.

"Don't rush. Talk to me. Tell me how it feels."

His breath was coming in long, full gasps and Loki forced himself to calm down.

"Good," he said. "I love my fingers. Love stretching myself until I'm pliant and flexible and you can slide all the way in. I love having your cock deep inside me, Thor. I need it now..."

"I'm in charge. You'll get it when I decide you can. But I liked your pleading."

It was difficult not to laugh delightedly at how readily Thor was joining him in this game. If he'd known how ready he was for it, he'd have done it long before now.

"Please! Oh, please, fuck me. I need to be filled. I need the feeling of you pushing in, how big you feel inside."

"You want it? Need it?"

Loki whined and nodded, watching as Thor lay down.

"Come sit on my cock, then. Take what you want."

Loki couldn't lunge to obey fast enough.


	33. Chapter 33

Had Thor ever enjoyed sex this much before?

Well, he had certainly enjoyed sex in a physical sense, in that it made him feel good and so on but this...

This was enjoyable in a different way, more mentally enjoyable, more... involved somehow. And he could see that Loki was enjoying it too, if the spots of colour high on his cheeks and the way his lips quirked upwards were anything to go on.

It took a while for him to identify what he was feeling.

Fun. This was fun, not a race towards climax - though the thought of how soon that sensation would wash over him was close at hand - and not merely using one another as a means to come, but genuine mutual pleasure for its own sake.

Why was he reacting like this? Was it this game Loki was playing, this very literal game that now saw him lowering himself inch by inch onto Thor's waiting cock? Did it call to something within him that wanted to be in control and yet vexed just slightly at every turn?

Ridiculous, really. And yet the fact that he had undoubtedly won, had worked out exactly the right words to say to create this situation, made him almost smug.

And it felt heavenly. He could lie back and relax now, watch as Loki took his entire length deep inside, watch his blissful expressions. Perhaps this facing one another idea had its merits too.

"What now?" Loki panted.

Though he wanted to go hard and fast immediately, Thor had his own game in mind now.

"Keep very still," he said, reaching forward with a hand that almost trembled to grasp Loki's cock.

Oh, that _gasp._ Had he touched Loki like this before? Perhaps not. It seemed to overwhelm him, lower lip clamped between his teeth and eyes flickering shut, hips twitching forward.

No, no, no... Naughty Loki.

Thor let go, immediately getting a petulant whine. Loki seemed younger like this, less in control.

"I told you not to move."

"I... I can't, I need..."

"Liar. You can and will. Let's try again."

They made another two attempts where Loki lost control of himself, and by the third time, Thor's patience had run out.

"Alright," he said. "Bounce, then. Come on. Work for it."

His last word turned almost to a cry as Loki immediately set a fast rhythm for himself, his patience frazzled and bucking his hips forward to fuck into Thor's fist.

"Oh, Loki... Oh, yes, come on. You feel so good."

"More," Loki panted, tossing his hair back.

He was wild and dangerous and beautiful and he had given Thor control. The mere thought of it made Thor thrust upwards reflexively, making Loki cry out each time their flesh met until he was yelling out his climax and spilling over Thor's fingers, the delicious tightening of his body pulling Thor over too.

Loki fell forwards into his arns, breathless and Thor found himself holding him properly, both arms cradling him in exactly the way he always avoided and Loki was gazing at his face and licking his own lips and maybe... Maybe he would, maybe they could...

A little smile, almost shy now, and Loki lay his head against Thor's chest.

"So..." he said. "Variety?"

"Yes," Thor croaked. "I like variety very much."

Loki sighed happily.

"I'm glad I met you in that pub that night and not another."

Thor didn't respond. For one thing, he wasn't glad, as such. He had traded a relatively stable life for ethical issues and borderline criminal activity after all.

For another thing, as Loki dozed, he was wondering why his lips were tingling when he hadn't kissed anyone in years.


	34. Chapter 34

Something strange was happening and Loki was loathe to spoil it. Couldn't they stay here like this forever, Thor's heartbeat strong beneath his ear and his arms wrapped around him?

There had been a moment, hadn't there? He had not imagined it. A moment that was the culmination of a length of minutes when they had been on the same page and working together and _Thor had made him come..._

He usually left Loki to tend to his own needs, not seeming to care whether he climaxed or not, but this time he had instigated contact and made sure of it and...

Of course, it probably didn't mean anything. By his own account, Thor didn't really think when they were thus occupied, but it had been different to his normal efforts to shut off his brain.

And now the question was why? Had he really enjoyed being in control so much that he had somehow wanted to demonstrate his gratitude? Of course, a lifetime of being told what and what not to do much take its toll. Maybe that was it.

Maybe the visit to the graveyard had given him a little peace. A sense of closure, the knowledge that his mother's earthly remains were in a respectable place. But then again, he had been so angry, so despondant... He couldn't have recovered from such emotions so quickly. No doubt there would quickly be a resurgence of his melancholy.

And they really did need to formulate a plan. Someone out there had impersonated him, had lied to Pietro Maximoff all through his visit and had therefore intended to murder him all along.

They'd planted him at Greyfriars right under his nose, knowing that he would take him. Which meant that they _knew..._

Alright, then, who knew besides himself and Thor?

Miss Carter. An unlikely candidate, seeing as her niece would be at risk if it ever got out. And she didn't seem the type to care too much about big ideas and theories. She was much too busy dealing with immediate problems.

Barton. After all, he had shaved off Maximoff's beard, altering his appearance. But it didn't exactly seem likely that he'd want to bring down the college like that. He'd lose his work and he was a skilled man. How much work was there calling for preserving chemistry outside the medical profession? No, unless be had a sudden burning desire to enter the world of taxidermy, it probably wasn't him.

Fandral? Could he be a murderer, really? Could he have lied when he told Thor about the two men who brought in Pietro Maximoff?

...Wait, yes, that's right. Two men. If one of them was calling himself Loki Laufeyson, what name did the other choose? Or had he at all? Had he been waiting in the shadows for a chance to strike?

It was a conspiracy, wasn't it? There was more than one person involved. They had planned to murder Pietro Maximoff, they had befriended him under false pretences, they had killed him in a way that left no marks...

Yes, and that was odd too. He hadn't been strangled. Loki knew that look - bruises on the neck, bluging eyes, purple tongue and all the little facial blood vessels burst in tiny red stars. He definitely had not been strangled. Suffocation was a potential though, smothering or similar. It didn't leave many marks at all. And, of course, there was always poison.

He sighed gently. All these people it wasn't, and no idea who it was.

Thor's arms tightened around him, a little murmur escaping his lips. Asleep then, mumbling to himself.

Loki blinked a few times and then shut his eyes. An afternoon nap in Thor's embrace. Who'd have thought he'd ever see the day?

For a little while, he could pretend that the world was exactly as he wished it to be.


	35. Chapter 35

They must have slept for hours, for when Thor woke it was dark and his stomach was starting to complain.

How spoiled he was getting, with regular meals guaranteed. He had definitely put on weight since living here.

Loki looked so peaceful in his arms, but so exhausted. There were definite bags under his eyes, his skin a little dull. He had been yawning a lot recently but was still up long before Thor and awake far later. Maybe his worries were keeping him from rest.

In that case, better to let him sleep a while longer. Thor carefully rolled him to the side, laying him on the mattress and tugging the blankets over him. There. He needed it.

And now Thor could go downstairs and try to figure out what on earth was happening in his brain.

He was still angry. He could feel it sitting there, like an ember just waiting for a gust of wind to make it burst back into flame. And his heart still ached for the loss of his mother. But - and how he hated himself for it - he was starting to understand Loki's point of view. Buried in the hospital cemetery or Greyfriars, what did it matter? The ultimate result was the same. And was it really so terrible that a human had cut her flesh for the purpose of learning and teaching when it was only going to be eaten by worms?

The thought made his stomach turn either way.

His mother had loved people. She had always had a kind word for even the least deserving. If she had been given the opportunity to help others after death, wouldn't she have wanted it?

It was stupid to ask himself that. He had no way of knowing. And in the end he knew he was just trying to justify his own actions, the choices and decisions he had made. To stay here. To help Loki. To allow... whatever this was between them to develop.

There was bread on the table and some leftover roast beef from Sunday. Miss Carter always did a full roast, even though it meant she had to take a lot of it away. Perhaps that was partially why - waste not, want not and all that. But it would make a more than acceptable little meal.

He was chewing his third bite when there was some urgent knocking at the back door. Odd. Very odd. There was no-one expected until tomorrow, and they would surely go to the front entrance.

Putting his food down on the table, Thor glanced around for a suitable weapon. Who knew who might be prowling about in the dark?

The flat iron. Heavy and imposing, it would do. Thor seized it and crept towards the door, yanking it open and holding his makeshift cudgel high...

"Mr Odinson? Come with me. Quickly."

He blinked at Miss Maximoff, stunned to hear her voice, and lowered the iron.

"Please," she said. "I must talk with you. It's very important."

"I... He's sleeping, I should..."

"No time. We have an hour at most, probably less. There are things you need to know. Things to keep you both safe."

Thor hesitated only a moment longer before following her out into the cold night.


	36. Chapter 36

Loki woke up and stretched. He felt rested in a way he hadn't for days. Weeks, maybe.

Thor was not there with him. He must have left him sleeping. How good of him. Loki nuzzled against the pillow in the hope of getting a little hint of his scent still clinging to it and tried to imaging him downstairs now, maybe making some tea, getting out the tray to carry it up to him so they could enjoy it together under the blankets...

Of course, knowing Thor, he was probably sitting in the parlour drinking from the bottle, feeling guilty for enjoying himself too much in the afternoon when he ought to have been grieving. Oh, well. Might as well go and disturb him.

It took him a little while to get dressed, under-used muscles complaining as he forced them to move. A nice ache though. A little twinge here and there in his thighs, mostly, nothing too debilitating.

He took how time, leisurely wandering down through the house in search of Thor. Not in the other bedroom. Not in the parlour. Not in the kitchen?

Loki frowned, finding a half-eaten chunk of meat and bread - no butter, typical Thor - and looked out towards the privy. He was probably just out there.

After a quarter of an hour, he went out to look.

No Thor.

Seized with sudden fear, he became frantic, racing up the stairs, looking in the office and rechecking everywhere, up into the attic even though Thor had never been there, down into the cellar despite the lock, ending up sitting at the table and shaking.

Thor was gone. He'd left. He'd finally left without a word, just up and gone.

Loki was a little surprised to find himself weeping. It hurt, it hurt so much, because they had definitely shared something. Not love, he was not so naive as to think something so strong as that, but affection at least.

His gaze fell on Thor's food, abandoned so carelessly. Which was not like Thor at all. After whisky, food was his god. He would not have left a meal behind, even one as meagre as this. He would have taken it with him, even if he wasn't hungry at that moment.

Loki almost tripped over his own feet rushing to the hallway. Thor's coat was still there. And it was cold outside, he shouldn't have left without it.

There were two explanations. Either Thor had temporarily taken leave of his senses and gone out into the night, without more than a shirt to protect himself.

Or someone had come and taken him.

Which was the scarier thought? Loki couldn't say. Thor might have rejected him, could be on his way to report him, leaving him to the gallows. On the other hand, Thor might have been taken by the very same people who had murdered Pietro Maximoff.

He might be in real danger.

Loki was trying to think rationally, trying to think of a plan to rescue someone he wasn't even sure needed rescuing. He could be anywhere in the city. He could be heading out of the city. Either of his own volition or...

Part of Loki hoped Thor would fight for him. That if someone had tried to kidnap him, they would feel the extent of his strength. That Thor would come home with blood on his knuckles and fire in his chest and be here and be safe.

And he wanted to help, but where could he even start if he didn't know where to begin looking?

He ended up staring at the wall, his heart pounding and stomach tied in knots, just trying to think of something, anything he could do.

Then something new hit him. What if Thor did not return, but the people who took him did? What if Thor had fought and been hurt and snatched and soon they would return for him? He was the true target, after all. It was his name being attacked, him being accused. Thor was a footnote at best, they couldn't possibly want him alone.

They could return at any time. Anyone strong enough to take Thor without a sound would easily crush him...

The sound of the yard door handle rattling had him scurrying for cover.


	37. Chapter 37

Thor followed Miss Maximoff out into the street where a carriage was waiting.

"I should tell Mr Laufeyson where I'm going..."

She opened the door and ushered him in.

"We must go now. There has been some concern about making you aware, but given the danger you are in, we decided it was best."

"Who are...? You told us you couldn't speak English."

"Yes. Sorry about that. People are less guarded when they think you can't understand. They smile and lie and you can see. But I trust you. And what you're caught up in could be a matter of life or death."

She refused to say anything else while they travelled, taking him into a large townhouse and to a dining room.

There was Miss Romanov and the man they had seen at the graveyard. Another man, blond and serious, and then...

"Miss Carter?"

"I'm sorry about this, Thor. This is much bigger than you thought."

Secret meetings, lies on lies, Miss Carter using his first name? The world was upside down.

"Tell us the truth," the blond man said. "All of it."

Thor couldn't help being intimidated, but he stood his ground. He did not know these people. Hr owed them nothing.

"Mr Odinson, I'm a surgeon. I know all about Laufeyson and his business. I know about the bodies. I need to know about Pietro."

His chest was heaving. They knew. They all knew.

"We found him. In Greyfriars. The undertaker there, he sold the body to us. We delivered it to a man, Barton, at the college. And that's all I know. That's all. And now there is all this trouble and..."

"It's alright," Miss Maximoff said. "My brother knew he was in danger. He wrote as much to me. But the trouble for you is that Mr Laufeyson has rather complicated matters. The killers hoped to cast suspicion on him by planting evidence that they had met but only as insurance. They killed Pietro and assumed that he would be buried in an unmarked grave, vanished. And then you bought his body, inadvertently adding more evidence."

"What do you mean?"

"Now it appears that Laufeyson killed him and sold the body for dissection to destroy it. But we know he did not."

Thor blinked at her.

"You're not... You're so calm. He was your brother, I don't..."

"Pietro and I live... Lived dangerous lives. We knew this might happen. It is not the first time we have been threatened. This goes beyond Edinburgh and beyond Britain. But you don't need to know that."

"Then what should we do? How long before suspicion falls on him, on us?"

"You need to leave," the blond man said. "It's no longer safe for you here."

"No, that will make it worse. If we run, the suspicion will look true."

There were some awkward glances around the table and Thor's skin itched with the knowledge that he wasn't being told something.

"We will try to keep you safe, but it might not be possible."

Thor sighed. It did seem like he was trapped. If they stayed, they'd be in danger. If they ran...

"Please, just tell me something. Why are they doing this?"

Miss Carter laid her hand on his. It was such an unexpected gesture, but kind. She was trying to comfort him.

"There are people who try to shape the world to match their own prejudices," she said.

"Through... murder?"

"Assassination, yes. We're trying to gather evidence and bring them to justice. But we mustn't rush. They are legion and they must have associates here."

"But why would they go after Loki? He's no politician or anything like that."

"Because of his... predilections."

"His what?"

"His lusts."

Thor jerked his hand back, blushing hotly. That was his private affair, his and Loki's, and the thought of anyone else knowing...

"I see," he said. "The story writes itself, doesn't it? A failed seduction, an argument, a murder and then he sells the body. Very neat."

"Precisely. So you should leave. If you care for him at all, you should convince him to leave. If not... you should run anyway. You are an accomplice after all."

If he cared? Did he? Was there a place in his heart for such a lying, wicked man? Was there a place for sharp wit and strong passions? For confidence and shamelessness and ruthlessness, intelligence and sensuality and everything else that made up Loki?

They sent him home in the carriage, wrestling with his feelings as he tried to sneak back in without making too much noise. Loki didn't need to deal with this yet.

Alas, he was already awake.

And hiding under the table.


	38. Chapter 38

"Loki?"

Thor...

Loki scrambled back out from under the table and threw himself forwards, desperate to feel that it really was him, that he was home and unharmed.

"I thought... What happened? Where were you?"

He was a little soothed when Thor wrapped his arms around him, stroking his back.

"Miss Maximoff came. We need to leave. We need to run."

And now Loki pushed back to look at him, scrubbing at the tears that were spilling down his cheeks in relief.

"Run? Why?"

Thor was shaking his head and trying to pull him close again.

"This is bigger than us, Loki. This is assassinations and politics and spies. And they cannot keep us safe."

"They? Who is they?"

"Miss Maximoff and Miss Romanov, the one-armed man, a surgeon and Miss Carter."

Loki could not imagine a more rag-tag society. Barnes and Rogers then. And his own housekeeper. And from their words alone, Thor was prepared to abandon their home.

"Where would you suggest we go?"

"I don't know. North, maybe. England. It doesn't matter, just away from here."

Loki shook himself out of his grasp and sat down.

"What did they tell you?" he asked.

"Well, they knew all about us, probably from Miss Carter. All about what we do for a living."

 _We._ It was 'we' now, was it?

"And they said that Mr Maximoff suspected he might be in danger, that the killers must have contacts in the city but that they never expected for you to steal the body. They're trying to pin it on you because... Because you're a... You know."

"What, Thor?" Loki asked with acid on his tongue. "Tell me. What am I?"

Thor shuffled his feet.

"Because you are... attracted to other men."

"Strangely distancing language from the man who was moaning with pleasure in my bed not twelve hours ago."

"These are not my prejudices, Loki. I am just trying to keep you safe. I'm trying to save you."

"Why? You hate me. You must hate me. I seduced you to 'unnatural' acts, I encouraged your alcoholism to keep you pliant and obedient, and I sold your mother's dead flesh for profit. Why on Earth would you save me?"

"Because you didn't do it! You didn't kill him. You are many things, but you are not a murderer and I will not stand by and allow you to be hanged for it."

What had he expected, really? A declaration of love? Thor kneeling before him and begging him to run away with him?

"This is my home, Thor. I will not leave it. Consider yourself unemployed. Flee where you will."

Thor blinked at him, but didn't leave. He just breathed hard, evidently angry but holding it back.

"You are exhausted," he said. "You should sleep on it and decide in the morning."

So patronising. Loki snorted and turned away. Thor sighed and came up behind him, laying his hands on his shoulders and squeezing lightly.

"They told me that if I cared for you at all," he said. "I should convince you to leave. That if you wouldn't or I didn't care, I should go alone."

Loki waited for him to continue instead of just massaging his shoulders, even if it did feel nice.

"And?" he prompted.

"And... I am not leaving you. No matter what you say."

There were a few moments of quiet as Loki tried to work out what that meant.

"So you care for me? Despite everything?"

Thor paused in his touches.

"I'm not sure what I feel," he said. "I just know that if I left you, I would be all alone."

"And my company is preferable to that?"

"Vastly."

Loki laughed. What a mess they were. What a shame for Thor. He desperately needed a receiver for his affection and had latched onto him.

Well, perhaps he could test this.

"You're right," he said. "I should sleep. Come with me? I rest better with you beside me."

Thor didn't say anything, but followed him up the stairs and slipped into his bed.

Loki stared at him in the darkness, just able to make out his features.

"You know, if death is coming," he said. "We might never have a chance to kiss another person again."

Thor blinked at him once, twice, and then seized his face in both hands to bring their lips together.

Loki moaned into his mouth, the press of his tongue, the feeling of his teeth just grazing his lower lip slightly. Thor's technique was clumsy, but he adapted well, following Loki's lead, pulling him on top and running his hands over his body and kissing, kissing...

His head spun, his fantasies finally coming true, being held and kissed and...

Thor broke away, running a warm hand down his back.

"Run away with me?"

Loki hesitated.

"Three more days," he said. "And if I haven't sorted this out, then yes. We'll run."

Thor kissed him again, full and strong, making him almost whimper.

"Thank you," he said. "That's all I can ask for."

To be honest, Loki thought he was well within his rights to ask for more. But he was being held, willingly, allowed to sleep in Thor's arms again and with the promise of more kisses in the morning.

Now he just had to stop them having to flee and avoid being hanged.

How difficult could it be?

He snuggled back into Thor's arms and tried not to worry.


	39. Chapter 39

Thor woke with a feeling of trepidation, though he returned Loki's greedy kisses with an almost equal degree of enthusiasm. Strange, he had so vigorously resisted them and now thought himself a fool for not indulging in such a simple pleasure sooner.

Still, he was troubled and deeply so. Why would Loki not just run? Of course, he would look guilty for a time, but once the true perpetrators were found and the dust settled, they could easily return. Even if they couldn't, surely alive at all was better than the gallows 

"What is your plan, then?" he asked as Loki brushed out his hair, tying it back out of the way.

"I expect to find out today. You see, I dislike being shut out, especially from something so personal as this. If Miss Maximoff and her friends want me to flee, they ought to tell me themselves, not sneak you out in the night and leave me panicking."

Thor couldn't deny being a little flattered by how frightened Loki had been to find him gone. He quickly tried to muffle that feeling though. He was suspicious of it, confused by what imminent danger was doing to his heart and mind.

They were headed to somewhere in the hospital it seemed, Loki passing through the hallways and the vestibules like he owned the entire building, leaving Thor to scurry along behind.

He had never been to such a place before. He'd briefly seen inside the theatre, but he had been reeling from Barton's revelation about his mother and unable to take much notice.

It seemed to be a place of intense pain. All around him were moans and sobbing, distant screams, a lot of rushing people and Loki sailed through it all with apparent ease.

"Unless I'm mistaken, we can find Rogers on the second floor."

He was correct, there was an office with the names Rogers and Barnes on two brass plaques proudly displayed on the door. But the men themselves did not return for half an hour, one of the most nerve wracking of Thor's life. The sounds of suffering still carried up from the floors below and set his teeth on edge.

The sigh from the end of the corridor was the first warning they got of the impending lecture, a very different one from the kind Loki usually enjoyed.

"You're not supposed to be here," Rogers said. "You're not supposed to be in the city anymore."

Loki was smiling, but it seemed very brittle, seconds away from cracking.

"Well, considering someone in this city wants to frame me for murder, I think I'd rather try to identify them than run for the hills."

Barnes ushered them inside quickly, his apron looking slick with something Thor wasn't thinking too hard about, hoping to find something within that could distract his attention.

In fact, the whole office was full of curiosities and horrors that ranged from the expected miniature portrait presumably of Mrs Rogers through a collection of sharpening equipment to...

Thor made a thoroughly undignified noise when his brain finally supplied what he was looking at, getting surprised looks from the other three men.

"That's an arm!" he exclaimed, helplessly, pointing to the large jar in the corner.

"Oh," Barnes said. "That's mine. Little souvenir from before. Don't worry about it. Take a closer look if you want."

He knew it was rude to stand with his mouth opening and closing like a fish, but he couldn't help it. Losing a limb was one thing, keeping it preserved was another.

And he wasn't sure if it was just a trick of the light or the effect of footsteps disturbing the liquid it was suspended in, but it looked like it was just faintly moving...

"As I was saying," Loki said pointedly. "I understand that you think you can uncover the people doing this, but who would be better to identify my enemies than me?"

"With respect, Mr Laufeyson, according to our research, you barely move without creating enemies. Too many sharp words, painful truths..."

Thor couldn't blame Loki for sighing angrily, even if Dr Rogers did have something of a point.


	40. Chapter 40

It was taking all of Loki's strength not to thump his head against the desk. Why could they not just let him handle his own business?

And these were some of the most intelligent men in the medical profession in thus city. No wonder the mortality rate was so high if they wouldn't listen to people...

"Fine," he snapped. "Since you won't help, I shall go and visit Miss Maximoff. She seems like she actually has a brain cell or two."

Rogers blinked calmly at him. He could feel the dislike oozing from him, the disdain of the lion for the rat. But he needed him. They all needed people like him. The system couldn't work without a little flexibility.

"I'm sure she'll tell you much the same thing as we have. And once she does, I hope you return to your senses and leave town."

Loki huffed dramatically and spun on his heels to leave. The effect was slightly spoiled by having to attract Thor's attention away from the specimen jar. He was tapping the glass gingerly with one finger as though afraid Barnes' dismembered limb might spring back to life and attack.

He stormed out of the hospital, making Thor have to hurry to catch up, and hailed the first cab he saw, grumpily hurling himself into the seat and barking the address of Miss Maximoff's lodging house to the driver.

Thor sat next to him very gingerly, being so careful not to irritate him, which of course just made him want to explode.

"I'm sure they will help us," Thor said softly.

Loki grunted.

Thor's hand found his and squeezed lightly. Such a small thing and yet he found his heart softening just a touch. He ran his thumb over Thor's knuckles in response.

Miss Maximoff did not seem surprised to see them, smiling prettily while Miss Romanov called for tea.

"I knew you wouldn't leave so readily, Mr Laufeyson," she said, pouring the milk. "It's not your style."

"Oh, and you'd know?"

"I suspected you of killing my brother. I found out a lot about you."

Loki's eyes flicked between them. Spies and intrigue, false identities... Oh, he was tired of this already.

"Mr Maximoff's letters," he demanded. "You must have them with you. Fetch them, I want to read them."

"Of course," Miss Romanov said, too sweet, leaving the room and returning a moment later with a surprisingly thick bundle for such a short visit.

And, of course, they were all written in that damnable Cyrillic script.

"I can't read these."

"What a shame."

This was intolerable! Couldn't they see, he was just trying to help? He wanted the killers found as much as them, more so maybe. He was the one most at risk, for heaven's sake.

But then, Thor to the rescue.

"Please accept our apologies, ladies," he said softly, in that warm, rich voice that seemed to pour into your very bones. "It has been a fraught night and day. Please, read them to us. Tell us what he wrote. Perhaps we will identify a suspect."

Loki tried not to pout as Miss Romanov took up the bundle and began flicking through them. Typical. Thor wanted something done and everyone jumped to it.

"Let's see... 'Dearest Wanda, Still in Edinburgh. I passed last night in the home of a new friend, Mr Loki Laufeyson. We were pushed together at the local salon du thé and had several interesting conversations. He is a jovial sort of fellow...'"

Loki snorted. He'd been accused of many things in his time, but seldom that.

"'...and seems very interested in my political ideals. A young man of fortune, he is very proud of his noble heritage. I rather fear I allowed myself to be spoiled by his excellent cook and housekeeper, a lady by the name of Carter. It seemed terribly familiar to me, though I can't guess why. You will know, I'm sure of it. Your memory was always better than mine.'"

Even down to the details, it was accurate. The main ones anyway. Loki was proud of many things but his lineage was not one of them.

"I did remember," Miss Maximoff said quietly. "For it was the name of the wife of Mr Barnes' great friend. But when we asked your housekeeper Miss Carter of this event, she denied it. There had been no visitor. She had prepared no third meal, let alone met the young man. And yet they knew her name."

"And therefore, they know me. Does he give any physical description?"

"Just that they are young with dark hair. That's all. Not even an eye colour."

Loki chewed the inside of his cheek. Someone who looked like him? But there was no-one he could think of. Of course, they could have found someone, picked up some dark-haired ruffian from the street and paid him well to be 'Loki Laufeyson' for the evening...

Thor coughed.

"That man," he said, meaning as clear as ever. "The one you brought home to make the mask from..."

"Ward? He looks nothing like me."

"But he does have dark hair and he would know the name Miss Carter. He would know a lot of little details about you."

"Thor, I severely doubt Ward could come up with a plan of this complexity if he'd had a thousand years..."

He trailed off. He'd already thought of it, hadn't he? A conspiracy. More than one killer and how they must hate him.

Well, who could hate him more than those whose world view he so blatantly mocked? The ones whose heels he nipped, whose evenings he deliberately spoiled just because he could?

The ones who probably couldn't believe their luck when he'd brought them the mask of Pietro Maximoff, creating a suspicious trail for them...

"Your suspects," he stammered. "Do you have any names?"


	41. Chapter 41

They had names, all written in that strange lettering. Of course, Thor was aware that there were other systems of writing. A long time ago, his father had owned a pendant with a strange mark scratched on it, a letter from the language of their ancestors. Unfortunately, it had been taken to the bottom of the ocean with him.

He wanted to hold Loki's hand, to put an arm around him, something to try to calm this visible agitation. He was practically shaking as he asked about his acquaintances.

"Alexander Pierce?"

"Yes," Miss Romanov said. "We know of him."

"And Grant Ward... Who else? Oh, erm, Zola? He's new."

"Arkin Zola, yes. Swiss. We have been aware of his activities for years."

"Activities?" Thor asked.

Miss Maximoff looked up at him, her expression somewhere between pained and enraged. It was not a look he ever wanted aimed towards himself.

"Medical experimentation," she said. "The logical conclusion of identifying so-called undesirable traits is to combat them. To try removing parts of the brain in attempts to get rid of the offending issue, testing out poisons thought to interrupt the mental processes and, of course, shutting down reproduction. The best way to stamp out an infestation is to stop it breeding, after all."

Loki frowned at the floor for a moment and Thor could almost feel the shame radiating from him. He'd talked about such beliefs, about trying to identify criminality and suchlike, but on the other hand he had used to laugh bitterly at how he was treated, as a mistake, as someone who should never have been born. It must be hard to stand at the top of the slope and stare down to what he might have ended up being.

"Phillip Coulson?" he asked.

"No. We trailed him for some time. He's nothing to do with this. He's like you, fascinated by something that ultimately horrifies him. And I'm interested, though not surprised, that you have not named the most high-ranking member of their little group. Johann Schmidt, code named the Red Skull."

"Why is he called that?" Thor asked, unsure if he really wanted to know.

"Because it sounds intimidating," Loki said. "It's a very basic method of control, to spread fear."

Well, that made sense. Even the name without the knowledge of their activities would have made Thor wary.

"We came to Edinburgh in the hopes of escaping him," Miss Maximoff said. "He has strong views on us and how we see the world. We had hoped this would be a safe place. We have friends here with the right expertise to help us in our work, to prove what they are doing, to stop them from harming anyone else..."

"But you found out we have our fair share of hatred too."

Loki's voice was so bitter, so dejected, that Thor couldn't help himself. His arm snaked its way around his waist, trying to be comforting. The ladies didn't react. No doubt they already knew about the extent if their relationship from Miss Carter.

"So where is he now, this Red Skull?" Thor asked.

"Scurried back to mainland Europe, I expect," said Miss Romanov. "It's difficult, trying to go directly for the head. We find ourselves continually snapping at the underbelly, trying to find a vulnerable link."

Loki's fingers were tapping against his knee, his mouth twisted. He stood abruptly.

"Thank you. This has been very helpful."

Thor did not miss the little smile that Miss Maximoff shot him as they left, but he wasn't sure what it meant.

"Where are we going?" he asked.

"Why, to see Ward, of course."

Thor stopped in his tracks for a moment.


	42. Chapter 42

Loki could hear Thor stammering as he followed him out onto the street, waiting for the inevitable.

"Be reasonable."

Yes, there it was.

"I am being reasonable. I'm being very reasonable. More reasonable than I feel is necessary, given the circumstances."

"Loki, let me assure you, your idea of reasonable is very different to everyone else's."

And that was so funny that he had to laugh, gleeful, manic laughter bubbling out of him.

"Don't you see, Thor? Miss Maximoff is relying on us."

Evidently, Thor did not see.

"Think about it. She has gathered all the information she can on me. She knows people, she knows how different kinds of people think. She knew that if she told you to tell me to run that I wouldn't leave in a million years."

"Not your style, she said."

"Precisely. My style is looking out for myself. It's refusing to be threatened. They want to frame me? Then they'd better be prepared for a fight."

"So you think she wants you to go after Ward?"

"I know it. All that talk about trying to find a weak point. We can find it for her, or at least take Zola out of the equation. It will be quite the blow to lose him. I know Ward. He'll underestimate me."

"Loki, stop."

And he wasn't just saying that, he'd physically laid his hands on Loki's shoulders and gently pushed him against a wall, leaving him with little to do except huff angrily.

"What?"

"These are dangerous people. Violent. We need to be careful."

"We need to move quickly and catch them by surprise."

"I agree, but we still need to be wary. They might be prepared for this."

Where had this wisdom come from? Come to think of it, when had Thor last had a drink? The night before they went to the graveyard. And then on that day he'd been met by Wanda Maximoff and Barnes and now they were so busy and...

"You're not shaking," he said. "You ought to be shaking by now. Your body should be experiencing withdrawal."

Thor took a step back in surprise.

"I have been drinking less and less, you know that. The worst of it is off me, I think. And I'm sorry, but my head is a little full of other things at the moment. Surely we can discuss my problems after we have dealt with this."

Was this what had been hidden beneath the gruffness and the stupors? This sense, this instinct?

He was glad of it, but not if Thor was going to insist on using it against him.

"Fine," he said. "What do you suggest?"

There was a pause while Thor thought the situation over.

"If you think Ward is a good way in, then they probably think that too. We should hide what we know. Behave as if you're panicked, afraid because you are being accused of the murder. I think Ward has something of a soft spot for you and we can exploit that."

Hmm. It was an unexpectedly good plan. Loki had intended to go in with no holds barred and confront him directly. This was sneakier. There was just one flaw.

"You think Ward... likes me?"

"Not like that. Or maybe like that too. I'm hardly an expert. But I think he's tired of being their running boy. I think he wants to recruit someone, prove his worth that way."

"And you've surmised this how?"

Thor shrugged.

"They're always looking for new fishermen to start at the bottom of the pile. Enough men tried to convince me to take that job on the docks for me to recognise the pattern. I know the signs of when something thinks they've spotted a likely catch."

A likely prospect, him? Well, he did fit 90% of the demographic. He was almost like them. But all this international politics... Well, he could take it or leave it.

His father's voice echoed unexpectedly in his ears - "There's no point owning a map of Europe, Loki. You'll need a new one five minutes later when the borders move."

It had actually been a fairly calculated piece of advice. He had wanted a career in politics for his son, hoped that he could lead him towards moving some of those borders himself. But Loki was either looking smaller, dealing with his own needs and wants, or looking far, far bigger, at the future of humanity itself.

"Alright," he said, shaking free of Thor's grasp. "We'll keep our cards close to our chests. I will go in, you wait. I'll convince Ward that I want help and either have him lead me to Zola or flee away, keeping our knowledge secret."

"And then what?" Thor asked. "What happens when you get to Zola?"

Loki blinked at him.

"Well, then I imagine the cavalry will arrive."


	43. Chapter 43

Thor still wasn't quite sure what was happening as he followed Loki to Ward's home, hiding in the bushes outside. He could just see, just hear, a little of what was going on.

"Awful," Loki was saying. "I just can't believe it. I don't know where else to turn. I don't know who else I can trust."

"What do you mean?" Ward asked.

Loki had angled himself so that Ward's back was pointed towards the window and Thor could see as he reached out and laid a hand on his shoulder, tentative and shy.

"You've always been kind to me, Grant," he said, the hint of a pleading pout around his lips.

Thor frowned a little. He knew that look. Loki had turned it on him often enough when he wanted something.

He just hoped he wouldn't follow it with his other favourite trick of dropping to his knees.

Was he... jealous? Surely not. He knew this wasn't real, that Loki was laying it on thick to fool Ward, to make him lower his guard.

"I just don't understand," Loki said. "I never met the man and yet they are convinced that I did the most awful things to him..."

"What things?"

"Oh, they're shocking. They said that I cut open his head while he was still alive, that I did things to his brain, burnt bits out of it. I know nothing about such activities but they still believe I did it."

Thor ducked as Ward turned around, looking pained and afraid.

"I... That's horrible. I thought he had just been smothered to death."

"Who told you that?"

A pause.

"Please, Grant. Please help me. I'll hang for this, you know it. I'm... I'm so scared. I don't know what to do."

Well, Loki was certainly playing his part well. His voice was shaking like he was close to tears.

And then there was another sound, a small, wet sound...

Thor risked looking in again, not wanting to believe it, but sure enough. There was Loki with his hands on Ward's hips, their lips together and Loki making little whimpering noises. So he _did_ like Loki that way. And he must have shown it in some way for Loki to be behaving so boldly, to be confident that he wouldn't be hurt for doing this.

"Don't worry," Ward said softly when they broke apart, so quietly that Thor could barely hear it, cupping Loki's face with him leaning into the touch. "I will ask around and find out how this happened. I'm sure it's just a mistake."

"Thank you," Loki said. "Oh, you don't know what this means to me. Will you start now?"

"I cannot. I'm sorry. I am otherwise engaged tonight. But tomorrow evening, I promise. I have friends who might help and I will contact them."

Loki nodded, a single tear shining on his face, refusing the invitation to stay for the evening. Ward had said he was otherwise engaged after all. It was a good excuse.

Thor was frowning when Loki left the house, pausing a few moments before following him to where he was waiting around the corner.

"So that's that. We follow him tomorrow night and he'll lead us straight to them. We'll get them, you'll see."

Thor grunted.

"Oh, what?"

"You kissed him," Thor hissed. "You let him touch your face."

Loki sighed.

"You know I only did that to mislead him. There's no need to be jealous."

"I'm not."

The look Loki threw him told him that he wasn't believing his protests at all.

"Well, that's a shame, Thor. Because if you admitted you were jealous, I would have invited you to take me to bed as soon as we arrived home and let you do unspeakable things to my body in a very thorough fashion."

Thor considered this for a moment.

"I might be a little jealous."

Loki laughed, such a happy sound despite the fear in both their hearts.

"You see? At least we can rely on each other for a little truth even if no-one else."


	44. Chapter 44

Mmm, this had turned out unexpectedly well for him. Thor was practically eating him with his eyes, and out in public too. They'd be arrested if he wasn't careful.

The moment the front door closed, Thor growled and forced Loki's head to the side to lay biting kisses into his neck. Ooh, yes...

"Thor? Have you ever wondered what it's like to be in my position in the bedroom?"

Oh, and now he was tense, confused and maybe a little scared.

"Don't worry. I'm not going to force you into this. But, well, I have a replica of a certain part of your anatomy and it hasn't had nearly enough use..."

"What are you suggesting, Loki?"

He didn't sound scared. Now he sounded curious.

"Well, you enjoyed being on your back before. I thought maybe we could do that again, but this this time you could be filled to the brim during it, experience having something inside you. That delicious fullness... I think you might like it."

Thor's eyes were almost black, his face just a little apprehensive, but more anticipatory.

"Alright," he said. "I will try it. Since you say it will feel good."

Loki lunged for his lips, his heart leaping. How he had dreamed of something like this. He dragged Thor up the stairs as quickly as possible, desperate to have him naked and panting and beautiful.

Thor chuckled, maybe just to hide his nerves.

"So desperate..."

"You've no idea."

Loki made quick work of their clothes, leaving them scattered on the floor and pushed Thor backwards onto the bed, laying kisses all over his body.

This would be their first time with kissing allowed. Such a pedestrian thing and yet the idea thrilled Loki and made his blood sing in his veins.

Thor made a little sound of loss as he got up to retrieve the phallus and oil. He prepared himself first, not wanting to lose time later, while Thor eyed the replica of his own length with some concern.

"It's so big," he said. "I'm not sure it will fit."

Loki laughed and held it up to its real counterpart.

"I always manage it," he said. "And believe me, Thor, it feels so good to be full. And once you are, I will climb up there and make you see stars..."

He carefully coated his fingers in oil and swirled them around Thor's entrance. There was a reason he normally only did this to himself. His previous conquests had generally been innocent to the actual mechanics involved in this sort of sex, and would freeze up if he attempted this.

Much as Thor was doing now.

"Ssh, darling, you have to relax. It won't hurt, but you need to breathe and be calm."

He watched as Thor's chest heaved, managing to calm himself enough for Loki to slip one finger inside in a quick glide, making him gasp.

"You're doing so well," Loki murmured. "I'm so proud of you."

Gently, gently, he teased at Thor's flesh, letting him get used to the feeling, not wanting to overwhelm him. A second finger went in relatively easily, but he needed some stretching before he was ready for anything else and Thor hissed with it.

"Does it hurt?"

"No, it... It feels strange."

"I need to do it, I'm afraid. You're so tight. But let's see if I can make this feel a little better..."

He twisted his wrist, pressing upwards, searching for...

"Ah!"

Yes, there it was. He grinned up at Thor, drumming lightly against the magic spot, watching as his cock leaked and his breathing turned to gasps.

"See how good it is?"

Thor only managed a sort of gurgle, but it sounded positive.

Loki had held the phallus between his thighs during preparation, trying to warm it up, but he considered Thor sufficiently ready now.

"Stay calm," he said, his voice low and soothing. "This will feel a little more intense."

"Do it," Thor bit out. "I'm ready, do it."

He might have been ready, but his body wasn't, tensing up so much that Loki had to keep murmuring comfort to him, one hand running up and down his thighs while the other applied gentle pressure.

The head slipped in and Thor cried out, but the rest slipped in easily after that.

"How does it feel?" Loki asked.

Thor squirmed beneath his gaze.


	45. Chapter 45

How did it feel? Thor could barely speak.

It didn't hurt. He knew that for sure, it didn't hurt. But it did feel strange and he wasn't sure if it was a pleasant strange or not.

"Full," he managed as Loki crawled up his body, nuzzling against him before carefully tilting his chin up to capture his lips.

And that felt good, so good that his hips moved reflexively and that made the monstrous thing _move..._

He let out an odd sound, a sort of strangled noise.

"Alright?" Loki asked. "It's not too much?"

"I... I can handle it. I'm fine."

That won him another kiss or two and then Loki was pulling back to reach behind himself and grasp Thor's cock, leaving him gasping as his length was engulfed in warm, wet perfection. But he wanted more contact, more kisses and braced himself for the jolt as he sat up and wound his arms around Loki's body.

Loki seemed surprised, but pleasantly so, planting his hands on Thor's shoulders for leverage, swivelling his hips and, oh, that was... Ooh, yes...

Thor couldn't speak, could only pant with pleasure against Loki's neck, kissing him whenever he was able, wanting this to last forever.

And then the sensations began to build and something inside him clenched hard.

"Hah... Oh..."

"Good?" Loki purred.

It was certainly adding something. He felt almost consumed by sensation, the unyielding fullness inside, the heat of Loki's body, the slight dampness where his cock was leaking against Thor's stomach, the plush softness of his lips, it was all combining into a swirling push forward.

He regained enough control of himself to find Loki's cock and began to stroke it firmly, gratified by the little whimpers he got and the answering tightening of Loki's body. Of course, he had grown used to that feeling, but he hadn't realised his own body would do it too and now there was something for it to clench against.

Loki was speeding up, chasing his pleasure and that just made Thor moan all the more, faintly aware that he was hardly pulling his weight but unable to do a thing about it.

All too soon, it was over, Loki crying out and almost spasming, the familiar rush coming over Thor as he spilled but this time with the added sensation of solid mass within him, giving him something to tighten around and feel.

Loki wrapped both arms around his shoulders and eased him back to the bed, kissing his way down to grasp the base of the phallus and ease it out.

"What did you think?" he asked, breathless.

Thor blinked a few times.

"Not sure," he managed. "It was... different."

"Did you like different?"

"I didn't dislike it."

That seemed to satisfy Loki and he quickly returned to bed after a moment's pause at the basin, rubbing a cloth over Thor's stomach as well before pulling the blanket over them both.

"Tomorrow," he said, sounding so sure. "We'll find out the truth and end this."

Thor wasn't entirely convinced, but he held Loki close anyway. They could at least have this moment. No matter what, they had this.


	46. Chapter 46

Such a busy day and enjoyable evening took its toll and they slept late into the next day.

Loki probably wouldn't have woken up for even longer had it not been for the faint clinking of a tray of tea being put on the side table.

Two cups, little jug of milk, sugar bowl for Thor, a cloth over the pot to keep it warm...

He untangled himself sufficiently from Thor's arms to sit up and see as Miss Carter silently left the room and got dressed as quietly as he could before taking his cup and following her downstairs.

"You're back then?" he asked, sipping gingerly. She did make excellent tea, but he had been stingey with the milk.

"Well, Sharon told me this morning that Dr Rogers had seen you yesterday and, well, I could hardly let you and Mr Odinson starve now, could I?"

"We'd have managed."

"I don't doubt it. But since you've elected not to follow our advice to leave, I might as well take up my post once more."

He frowned a little, watching as she emptied and reorganised one of the cupboards, apparently just for something to do with her hands.

"Can you tell me anything about what I'm up against?" he asked.

"Hmm... Not much, I'm afraid. I rather forced Steven to let me into their little circle, though I think secretly they were pleased to have me. It was helpful to have someone on the inside here, able to make sense of the confusing evidence."

"They could have just asked me."

She finally stopped fussing and turned to look at him.

"Unless you were really one of those awful people. We had to be sure first. What if you had been an early initiate and would take our suspicions back to them? We'd have all been in danger."

Well, they had a point. He couldn't deny that they did and still he was angry about it.

"You really know nothing? I must admit, I doubt that, Miss Carter."

"I didn't say nothing, I said little. I know for example that Pierce seems to be the local man in charge. He came up from London some years ago. Probably fleeing a similar scandal there. But I know that's not who you're after."

"No," he agreed. "I want Zola. If he were still here, I'd want Schmidt himself."

"You never were one to take half measures."

Loki looked at her properly for the first time in years. How long had she worked for him? He vaguely recalled one or two previous housekeepers who had left him after one too many 'indecent' incidents.

"Why do you work for me?" he asked. "There must be better jobs. Better paid jobs."

She clearly hadn't expected the question and laughed brightly.

"You're very easy to please, Mr Laufeyson. A half-decent meal and a little peace, that's all you want. No screaming children. No meticulous regime. And I always have half days, which I value very much. But honestly? It's because I like you. I've worked for the great and good and terrible and you are a fine employer to see out my days."

"Oh, come now, that's a long way off."

"It's coming sooner rather than later."

She was rummaging again and it set his teeth on edge a little.

"Well, since you're so close to death, I must insist that you sit down for a moment and let me serve you a late lunch."

She obeyed unexpectedly while he fetched cheese and bread and leftovers and preserves from the pantry, taking his hand once he'd put it all down.

"It's awful, what they accused you of," she said. "And I hope you take down as many of them as you can."

He was a little stunned by the strength of her words, standing dumb until Thor came up behind him and ran a hand over his shoulders, evidently too embarrassed to ask for a kiss in front of Miss Carter.

Loki planted a quick one on his lips anyway. They had to enjoy such things while they still could.


	47. Chapter 47

Thor was nervous, he couldn't help it, pacing around all day, cleaning almost the entire ground floor just for something to do and barely managing to eat at dinner.

He knew what he wanted, what his body thought he needed, but he refused to give in to it, he refused to drink. He needed to be sharp tonight, stable, and he could not do that if he succumbed. Not even one dram, because that would lead to two and then the whole bottle would be gone and he'd be no use to anyone.

The dilemma had to be written all over his face because Loki did his best to distract, chatting away to him. It helped, though he didn't really register what was being said.

And then it was time for them to go and wait for Ward to leave. They chose their vantage point, opposite his house and were concealed by shadow and bushes as they sat down to wait.

It took hours and Thor was close to giving up. Loki dozed against him, though how he could possibly sleep was beyond Thor. He was far too tense for that.

Finally, Ward emerged, looking furtive and afraid and Thor carefully nudged Loki awake. They tried to follow at a discreet distance, though Ward kept looking about himself as though sure someone was watching him.

"Remember, this could be a trap," Thor murmured.

"I know. I'll be careful."

It wasn't enough to reassure him.

Ward led them to a lodging house where they were forced to wait before following and of course, there was no sign of him when they entered the foyer.

Loki smiled widely at the hostess, his most charming and dazzling possible, batting his eyelashes just a little.

"Excuse me, but I just saw my friend Mr Ward come in here," he said. "I'd love to pay him a call if you could tell me which room he's in?"

She seemed thoroughly unimpressed by that.

"I can't, unfortunately," she said. "Our patrons value their privacy."

Loki didn't even blink as he slid several coins across the desk to her. Nor did she as she took them.

"End of the corridor," she said softly. "On the right."

"Thank you kindly."

They set off in a rush but were creeping when they got near their goal, silent as the grave.

As such, they were exactly poised to hear Ward growing more and more flustered.

"...none of the rest," he was saying. "You didn't tell me about any of that."

There were murmurs, at least two other voices.

"Pierce?" Thor mouthed.

Loki shook his head, frowning.

"How can I trust you?" Ward again. "This has all gone too far. I never expected him to be hanged for it."

More mumbled speech, unintelligible.

"What? No! How... How dare you even imply that I...? Hey, what are you doing?"

"Break down the door," Loki hissed.

"What?! Can't we just knock?"

"Oh, and you think they'll answer?"

They both leapt backwards as the door opened and a tall, thin man looked down his nose at them.

His nose and a rather impressive duelling pistol.

"Laufeyson," he said. "We've rather been expecting you. What took you so long?"

Thor took one look at the gun pointed at Loki's heart and stepped in front of it.


	48. Chapter 48

The tall man looked amused, tilting his head to the side.

"You do realise that if I were to shoot now, the bullet would enter your body and emerge from the other side having barely slowed, leaving you both to a long and painful death?"

Gritting his teeth, Loki decided to resort to bluff and just hope his suspicions were right.

"Might we be spared the dramatics?" he asked, nudging Thor to the side. "I'm merely here to discover why I was not invited to this little gathering. After all, am I not the murderer of Pietro Maximoff? Doesn't that win me... Ooh, at least a little respect, Mr Schmidt?"

Still amused. Good. He'd be less likely to kill them if there was still fun to be had. Loki gazed unflinchingly at the man's pale face, his prominent bone structure, the unhealthy air of him.

Ah... Well, that made a lot of sense.

"How remiss of us," Schmidt said. "Please, come in. We were just speaking of you."

And there was Ward, looking a little out of his depth, Zola holding another pistol trained on him. Funny, in the time Loki had known him, the doctor always just faded into the background, quiet and unimposing. Probably a useful skill for someone in his profession.

Loki had to avoid flinching when the door closed heavily behind them. Escape would not be so easy now. Thor was like a caged dog, hackles raised and ready to bite at any moment.

Schmidt reached out and gripped him by the chin, examining his chin.

"Your servant?" he asked.

"My valet, yes."

"Hmm... Well built for what he is. Sharp eyes. Tell me, servant, was your father a Norseman?"

Oh, typical Thor. He'd set his jaw. He wouldn't speak to this man without coaxing. It was exactly the kind of behaviour that might get them killed.

"It's alright," Loki said, trying to salvage things quickly. "You have permission to speak."

A quick glare and then Thor lowered his gaze.

"Yes. He was. From Norway."

"Mmm. Wonderful race, the Norse. So clean. So obedient in the right circumstances and so noble. You see, Mr Ward, this is exactly what I was talking about when I mentioned corruption. What a specimen this one might have been if only he had a different master. Like dogs, you see? It's always the master at fault, and your superior status does not make you immune. You've allowed yourself to become too close to an inherently dangerous type. It would only be a matter of time before he invited you to his bed and then you would be as lost as this poor fellow."

It burned Loki to see him touching Thor, appraising him like a beast and he could see a vein pulsing dangerously in Thor's neck.

He wasn't expecting him to strike with his head though.

And evidently, neither was Schmidt.

The gun dropped to the floor as he stumbled back, blood spurting from his nose and Loki lunged for it, trying to push Thor behind him with one hand. He was rubbing at his forehead where a bruise was likely forming.

"Well, look at that," he growled. "It seems superior blood flows just as readily as the normal stuff."

An impasse then. After all, there were three against them... Well, maybe two if Ward was considering a change of sides, but they were also now equally armed.

There was a strange gurgling sound which finally registered as Schmidt laughing through his smashed face.

"I imagine you're expecting the honourable Miss Maximoff to save you now?"

"I've no idea what you mean..." Loki said. "If you were thinking of luring her to her death, you're out of luck. She has no idea that we're here."

"What a shame," Zola said. "Your deaths almost meant something."

Loki brandished the gun, glancing back towards the door.

This would be a really wonderful time for Miss Maximoff to arrive and prove him right.


	49. Chapter 49

Several things seemed to happen at once.

Or rather, did happen at once.

Thor shoved Loki sideways, hoping to get him behind some of the furniture, but mostly succeeded in making him fall over with an undignified noise.

Ward made a grab for Zola's gun, finally having an attack of conscience it seemed, making him fire harmlessly into the floor.

Unfortunately, his noble action was rather overshadowed by the window exploding in a shower of tiny shards of glass.

There were screams and Thor realised that one of them was his own, sheer shock spilling out of him.

The next thing he knew, Dr Rogers was knocking out what remained of the pane with his foot and scrambling in, followed by a several policemen and a severe dark-skinned man with an eye patch and an expression of grim pride. Thor could only stare. Who were these people? Where had they come from?

"Johann Schmidt," the stranger intoned. "I am detaining you for conspiracy to commit murder, extortion, and the unlawful killing of Mr Pietro Maximoff. Armin Zola, I detain you for false imprisonment and grevious bodily harm."

"And who exactly are you?" Schmidt asked, voice thick with flitting blood as two men wrestled with him. "On whose authority are you acting?"

"Nicholas Fury. I suppose I'm what you'd call a bounty hunter and as for authority, well, all the authority I have is my own. Got a lot of rewards offered for you all over Europe and a few across the water too. You've really gotten around. When Wanda Maximoff telegrams, I know there's someone I ought to meet. Luckily for you, I happened to be in London and could make this little excursion."

Thor was still staring. Everything about this man, his voice, the way he held himself, it could hardly be real. He'd surely wake up in a moment. This was surely too lucky. Maybe he'd been shot and this was his last dream.

Schmidt's nose was bleeding freely now his hands were cuffed and Fury looked on with a hint of approval in his eyes.

"Who broke his face?"

Thor stammered a little.

"That would be me, sir."

"Ever considered a career in crime prevention?"

Thor hesitated. He hadn't, no, and he didn't really like the idea of coming into contact with more people like these men, but then again if he could bring them to justice...

He looked at Loki, who was brushing himself off and trying to regain some dignity.

"I am already gainfully employed, sir."

Rogers and the policemen - presumably operating under some kind of international law, or the international language of bribery - marched Schmidt and Zola away, leaving Ward looking thoroughly sheepish. Apparently he wasn't worth anything.

"I'm... I'm so sorry, I had no idea that they would..." he began.

"Don't waste your breath," Loki said, retying his hair where it had fallen loose. "You knew they were going to kill Mr Maximoff. You pretended to be me, knowing what would happen. And I went to your home specifically to play you for information. I'd say we're fairly even now, wouldn't you?"

Thor watched as Wanda Maximoff finally appeared in the room, sweeping in like a queen, a slight look of relief crossing her face to see them uninjured before she counted out several notes into Fury's hands.

It was entirely beyond him. One moment ago, they'd been facing certain death. Now money was trading hands for the lives of criminals. He was a pawn here, he and Loki both, used by Miss Maximoff to hunt her brother's killers.

Loki had said, hadn't he? That they were helping her, that she wanted them to do this. He'd predicted that she needed them to lead her to Zola, but he hadn't predicted much of this.

Would she have cared if they died? Of course, he thought she would, but on the other hand, they could easily have become martyrs to her cause. It was discomforting in the extreme. What if Mr Fury had been late? What if any of them had fired? There would certainly be bodies in this room.

Was that why she'd sent Dr Rogers? So he could tend to the wounded? Or hurry away the bodies of the dead...

"Everyone trades in flesh eventually," he murmured.


	50. Chapter 50

Everyone trades in flesh? Sometimes Loki had no idea what was going on in Thor's head.

"Miss Maximoff," he began, like he was greeting an old friend, but his tone brittle. "Now that we've all danced to your tune, would you mind awfully explaining what on earth just happened?"

She smiled at him, semi-apologetically.

"I wasn't expecting Mr Fury to make quite such an imposing entrance, but, well, I believe you say in English that beggars can't be choosers? As for what happened... Well, we were lucky. I've been in turns hunting and running from Schmidt for years. Thank you for stalling him."

Loki huffed lightly. Stalling indeed... That had been incidental if anything. They'd almost died. There had almost been no almost about it.

"You know he would have killed you, given the chance," he said, holding the gun out to her. "Why not just repay the compliment?"

A little shake of her head.

"Not my style. He needs to stand trial. It is not for me to define justice."

Ugh, so moral. In her place, Loki would have aimed between Schmidt's eyes as soon as he saw his face.

His painfully thin face...

"He's dying anyway," he said. "I know the signs. Blood illness. It'll kill him."

"Then wouldn't it be a mercy to speed things along?"

Huh. Perhaps Miss Maximoff's ruthlessness actually knew no bounds. Then again, wasn't it self-defence? Schmidt had killed her brother after all, was definitely coming after her... Since there was no harm done, maybe he shouldn't judge her too harshly.

Shouldn't wasn't the same as wouldn't though.

"What's next for you?" he asked to change focus a little. "Still planning to move here?"

"My furniture is already en route. Miss Romanov and I have found a house, close to Barnes of course. And you, back to resurrection, are you?"

Loki paused.

"No," he said. "It has proved to be too risky an enterprise despite the rewards."

"It's an important service. There will always be a need."

He shrugged.

"Yes, well... There will be other men like me. Men willing to be flexible. As for the future... Maybe it's time I thought about real medicine instead of theories. Maybe I should turn my mind to the living rather than the dead."

"Oh, I'm sure Dr Rogers could look into that for you."

From her tone, Loki got the distinct feeling that Dr Rogers was going to be told to look into that for him. He was glad Wanda was on his side, nominally anyway. She did not seem like an easy enemy, especially if this was how she treated her allies.

"But it has been a stressful evening," he said. "And so I think Mr Odinson and I will retire. Good evening to you. I'm sure I'll hear from you soon enough."

Thor seemed troubled as they walked out of the guest house, frowning and pensive.

"What's the matter?"

"I just... I feel like I only have part of the puzzle. They've orchestrated all this around us. It makes me feel... predictable, I suppose. Like I'm being controlled or something."

"Hmm. Well, I can understand that. And so I suggest that we go home and do something a little more unpredictable and terribly shocking."

Thor fell into step beside him.

"Shocking, huh? What do you have in mind?"

"Well, you'll just have to find out, won't you?"

It was a long way hone and Loki felt like he ought to acknowledge Thor's actions during the stand off, how he'd tried to protect him more than once, but there didn't seem to be a sensitive way to breach it.

He blurted it out instead.

"You were going to take a bullet for me."

"Yes. I suppose I was."

"Why?"

Thor sighed, rubbing the back of his neck.

"I think... Well, something in my brain told me I couldn't lose you. Not like that. Not so... pointlessly. And besides, if I had been shot, you would have thought of some clever way to get us out. I'd have gotten us both killed."

He was skirting around the truth, Loki could tell. It hung unspoken in the air between them.

But Loki knew. Thor cared about him, that's what it boiled down to. Cared enough to put his life on the line for it.

He wasn't quite sure what to do with this information and so locked it away in a part of his heart that for some reason had started doing happy leaps and flips.

He broke the slight tension between then by pulling Thor into a warm kiss the very second the front door closed.


	51. Chapter 51

Thor's eyebrows rose when Loki produced the phallus again, lounging back on the bed.

"I'm not sure I..."

"No," Loki said. "This is for me."

Intriguing, he couldn't deny, but on the other hand...

"So you want me to watch you?"

"To begin with, yes. But once I'm prepared, I want you to push in right alongside."

Thor could feel his blood rushing down at just the idea and he propelled himself on top, grinding shamelessly against Loki's body as he kissed him.

"Mmm... Mm, darling, you're going to have to stop if you want me to do this."

It was dreadfully cruel of him, Thor thought, but he obediently rolled to the side and stripped off his clothes, cock springing free the very second he loosened his breeches.

And then he could sit up and watch as Loki slipped his fingers into his own body, hissing slightly at the stretch of it.

"Don't rush."

"I want to rush. Being used as live bait has rather sharpened my need to feel... Mmm..."

"To feel what?"

"You know... Desired. Wanted, needed, important..."

Maybe that was the real truth, Thor mused, the real key to Loki. He'd been looking for meaning in all of humanity, but really he needed someone to find meaning in him. To want him.

And Thor needed someone to want.

Weren't they lucky?

"How could I not desire you?" he asked, crawling close to nose at Loki's skin. "So clever and insightful. You knew we'd be safe."

"Flatterer," Loki admonished, though he lost it a little in a moan.

Reaching down, Thor slid a dry finger into Loki's hole alongside his own slippery ones, making him gasp and arch.

"I'm ready to start."

"Can I...?"

Loki nodded, lips curled in pleasure, and Thor picked up the heavy phallus.

"You're going to be stuffed so full."

"I'm counting on it."

Thor laughed, gently starting to push it inside, marvelling at the way Loki's flesh parted and took it, the shining red glaze contrasting so beautifully with his skin.

"Can I move it?"

Eyelashes fluttering, Loki nodded, his breath hitching as Thor took a firm hold of the porcelain replica of his own body and gently pulled it out before fluidly pressing it back inside.

"Mmm... Mmm, Thor, yes..."

"Still want me in there too?"

"More than anything. But I'll need more preparation first."

Thor obediently drenched his fingers in oil and began carefully pressing them inside. He was amazed. Loki was already so very, very full, but he was taking even more with just a sigh.

"More... I can do it. More."

"You've got two already."

"Well, I want three."

He was breathless and every word had the hint of desperation in it that made Thor burn to be inside him, feeling those gasps against his skin. But he was patient, careful, forcing his own wants to the back of his mind.

But the moment Loki gasped out that he was ready, his lust came rushing back. He crawled up Loki's body so he was holding himself above him and leant down to kiss him, both of them sloppy and needy.

And then finally, he was reaching down and pressing carefully inside and Loki was moaning out, overwhelmed. Thor stilled, watching as he gathered himself and nodded.

It was amazing that Thor didn't come instantly. Everything was so tight, the heat of Loki's body and the softness of his flesh contrasting with how smooth the phallus was, all thoughts fleeing his head as he managed a thrust or two.

Loki whimpered and clung to him, restricting his motion a little, whispering helplessly about so much and oh, Thor, and yes, oh, hah...

Thor could do little but roll his hips gently and lay kisses all over Loki's face and neck, moaning as Loki's nails dug into his back.

"Thor, Thor, please... Oh, I can't..."

"What do you need?"

"Need to come. Please, please, Thor."

He nearly wept as Thor grasped his cock, stroking it firmly and just the way Loki loved and that made him even tighter, both of them crying out and all too soon, Thor found himself pounding just a little too hard, Loki screaming in overwhelmed pleasure beneath him and spilling almost at the exact moment that Thor hit his peak.

They ended up tangled together, panting and touching one another wondrously. Several minutes passed before Thor roused himself and pulled out, easing the phallus out of Loki's body with great care.

"You're going to ache for a while I think," he said quietly.

"Good," Loki said, one arm across his face. "It will prove I'm alive. And you'll have to take care of me."

Thor hesitated so long that Loki opened his eyes to look at him.

"Would you like me to? On a regular basis? Look after you, I mean."

Loki spread his arms in invitation and didn't respond until Thor was lying in his embrace.

"Were you planning on going somewhere else?"

"You're stopping as a resurrection man. You won't need me to carry heavy things any more."

"Oh, I don't know about that. I intend to have specimens for my new life in real medicine. Sell all the masks and get myself lots of body parts in jars and so of course I will need someone to carry them up the stairs..."

They laughed together, Loki tracing random patterns on Thor's back.

"So you'll stay?"

Thor kissed him softly.

There wasn't much else to say.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for reading and coming on this adventure with me. I had no idea just where things were going and your support all that time has been unbelievable so thank you very much.
> 
> I will be back with more stories very, very soon!


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